


TWO THOUSAND FLOWERS

by Baron_von_Bullsheisse



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Agender Character, Alternate Universe - Non-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), Developing Friendships, Physical Abuse, Self Confidence Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-02-28 15:36:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 24,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13274523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baron_von_Bullsheisse/pseuds/Baron_von_Bullsheisse
Summary: Amami tries to have a normal life in an abnormal school.Shinguuji wonders when their hands will stop hurting.





	1. usual

It was safe to say that Rantarou didn't fit in as well as he'd hoped.

Maybe a week wasn't enough time to judge that, but with what he knew about everyone in his class, for the first time in ages, he really felt like...just a normal guy.

Not that he was _normal_ by any means. At the age of fourteen, he'd been pre-emptively scouted out by the academy of Hope's Peak, as “Amami Rantarou, the Ultimate Adventurer”. He'd gone on journeys on every continent, living off the land with little more than a few tools and the clothes on his back. Survival skills of his level were considered almost supernatural, and Rantarou knew well that he had a place here, among these other students with similarly unnatural expertise in their fields.

But now he was seventeen and actually attending the school, and listening to a small girl in a pointed cap mumble on and on about all the feats she could perform with her magic wasn't what he'd had in mind.

“Um, hey, Yumeno-chan?” Both the witch and Rantarou looked up at the approaching classmate, another girl in a pink sweater. “Homeroom's about to start. Maybe you should save your energy for later?”

Yumeno blinked, then sighed. “I guess you're right. Nyehh...I was using my MP without thinking.” She slowly ambled to her desk and sat down, nearly falling asleep on the spot.

Rantarou leaned back in his chair and took a moment to spread out his fingers, making sure his rings were all in place. “Thanks, Kaede-chan. You might have saved my life,” he said, with a light smile. Maybe he should have worn his mahogany ring on his left hand? It felt somehow strange for it to be on the right.

“It's no big deal.” Kaede searched through her backpack and took out some hairpins shaped like musical notes. “Yumeno-chan really gets into her magic, huh? It's pretty cute.” She also had a small mirror, looking at it as she placed the hairpins into their usual spot in her blond fringe.

“Cute? Mm, I guess so. My second-youngest sister is really into magical girls, so I'm a bit...tired of hearing about that kind of stuff,” Rantarou chuckled, “Especially since most of my sisters did the same thing. Our house is totally _littered_ with PreCure cups and dolls.”

The conversation continued in mostly the same vein, light and aimless. Kaede was someone who Rantarou had gotten along with on their first day of school, and from what he knew about her so far, she was the kind of girl that most people liked – kind, considerate, easy to chat with, outgoing. It had only been a week, so it wasn't like he really knew her that well, but his first impression had held up.

Their homeroom teacher came in, and the class gradually settled down, though it never became silent. As attendance was taken, Rantarou took the chance to glance around the room. It only reinforced the idea that wow, he _really_ was pretty normal compared to some of the students here. Aside from the witch, there was a giant, muscular boy with unkempt hair, and his polar opposite, an extremely short guy who always wore a hat with two horns. No, seriously, he was maybe a metre tall at most. It was hard to imagine that he was apparently a world-class tennis player.

And it didn't end there. On Rantarou's right sat a maid, her dress covered in a spider web pattern. She was probably the closest to a responsible adult in this class, which didn't go unappreciated by the school staff. Another girl, who insisted on wearing a bikini under a raincoat (um, seriously? it was early spring) had covered her desk with marker drawings. Someone in the back of the class honestly frightened Rantarou a bit, with their leather mask and long, dark hair not unlike girls in horror films, not to mention that cold gaze.

And, of course, there was the _actual robot_ sitting in front of Rantarou. A robot! With a real intelligence! How was anyone expected to just...get used to that?

Toying with the dozen-or-so bracelets he wore, he turned to look at the clock, waiting until he could get out and maybe act like he was in a normal high school.

 

 

It did make some sense, if he thought about it – Hope's Peak didn't have mandatory attendance for classes because students were expected to spend all their time working on their talents instead. Why make, say, Kaede the Ultimate Pianist do mathematics when she could be composing a new song? But it still felt odd when Rantarou was heading somewhere and saw pretty much every student milling about in the halls, in no rush to be anywhere or do anything.

Well, that was them and this was him. He went to most classes he could because he was an adventurer, and who knew when he might need this knowledge? It wasn't as if he only travelled out in the wilderness. Learning as much about the world as he could was what he wanted to do, and was probably smarter anyway.

(And, if he did say so himself, he was a fairly smart guy. His grades had always been high and teachers generally liked him. Well, there had been that English teacher back in middle school, but-)

“Ooiiii, Tarou-chan!”

Snapped out of his thoughts, Rantarou looked back, smiling at the familiar voice. Behind him, with a bright grin and messy dark purple hair, was Kokichi. Thank god.

He turned to face the shorter boy and ruffled his hair. “Hey Kokichi, what's up with you?” He asked, pulling a stick of gum out of his pocket and letting his friend take it. “Looking evil as usual.”

Ouma Kokichi, the Ultimate Supreme Leader. An odd title, given his small stature. Most people took one look at him and thought that surely, a _child_ couldn't do any harm. And, well, they weren't totally wrong, but underestimating this _child_ was a huge mistake.

Kokichi straightened out the chequered bandanna he always wore (how old was that thing?) before grabbing onto Rantarou's arm. He whispered, “Don't worry, Tarou-chan-”

“So I should worry?”

“-it's nothing worth thinking too much about-”

“So it's something you've put a lot of thought into.”

“-And it doesn't involve anyone you know. Just relax, okay?”

Rantarou tapped his chin thoughtfully with the hand that wasn't held hostage. “Gee, I dunno... This isn't going to be a repeat of _that one time_ , is it?”

“Whatever could you mean? Every prank I play is planned out and performed perfectly.” Kokichi's grin widened to a point that would have been creepy if it were anyone else he was talking to.

“I seem to remember..gosh, there were flower crowns and paint...and Saihara-”

“Okay, except for that one time!” the shorter boy yelled. He let go of his friend's arm and pouted, fake tears threatening to spill. “H-how was I supposed to know that Saihara-chan was a detective!? Even you didn't know that until the end of eighth year!” He jabbed a finger accusingly at Rantarou, but then smiled, clearing up any trace of sadness. “So, what about you? Gonna eat with your new girlfriend?”

“Ah...no, I don't like her that way. Isn't it a bit early for that?”

A pause. “Yeah, pretty sure she's taken anyway. I saw Saihara-chan making eyes at her. Ooh, do you think he's in love?” Kokichi leaned close into the taller boy's side again, eyes sparkling. He just as quickly drew back, face blank. “Oh, right. I need to prepare for my special trick. My first of the school year! Wish me luck!”

Watching the other dash off, Rantarou raised a hand as farewell and prayed for whoever the unfortunate target was.

 

 

Lunch was uneventful. He did sit with Kaede, yes, but Saihara had been there too. They'd formed a rather nice trio, something he was grateful for. Despite being the Ultimate Detective, Saihara had always been shy and unassertive, pulling his hat over his face when faced with difficult people. But he and Rantarou had known each other since middle school, and Kaede had taken a certain shine to the boy. It wasn't as if having a group of friends was new to Rantarou, but finding like-minded people here was basically a miracle.

Unfortunately, next on the schedule was his literature class. He'd never been great at them. Metaphors and deciphering meanings had always been a weak point of his, and well, he just didn't like writing.

So here Rantarou sat, trying his hardest to understand just what the hell was going on in this book, and not really getting anywhere at all. Yes, the classes here were generally less demanding than a normal high school, with no homework, but he couldn't even write a paragraph of this analysis without feeling completely stumped.

Maybe someone could help him.

He turned his head towards the other students. There were few, and most of them were on the reserve course. A few other Ultimates that he recognised, but nobody he knew...except...

The horror film girl with the mask. Looking as creepy as ever. Just his luck.

 _Come on, Rantarou_ , he reasoned with himself, _she's probably pretty smart. What was she, uh, the Ultimate Folkorist or something? That's perfect! Just ask!_

He really didn't want to approach her. Just standing up, he saw those pale yellow eyes judging him. Or well, he couldn't actually see them because of the hat she wore, but he could _imagine_ them all the same. Her face was just about buried in the large book she was reading, so chances were that she didn't even notice his approach. He put on his best nonchalant smile and steeled himself.

“Hey there, uh...” _Shit, what was it..._ “Shinguuji-san. Mind if I ask you something?”

At first, he thought that maybe she hadn't heard him, but slowly, her head turned up to face the one who'd interrupted her.

“Amami-kun.” Oh boy, now those eyes were on him, boring into Rantarou's soul and making him feel transparent. “Is it important? I'm rather occupied, as you can see.” Her voice was rather deep and smooth and-

Oh. Maybe thinking of Shinguuji as a girl had been a mistake. Then again, talking to Shinguuji was already a mistake, so what was another? “I don't understand this part of our assignment, so I thought maybe you could help. If you want. No pressure,” he said, feeling like there was a whole lot of pressure on him from that gaze alone. How could one person make him feel so _unworthy?_

But, to his surprise, Shinguuji closed his book and nodded. “If that's all, then it's no problem.” He turned his whole body as Rantarou took the seat to his left.

“So first, what does _tabula rasa_ mean? It's used to describe Mu-Yong here, but I don't know Latin.”

The dark-haired boy closed his eyes and placed his hands in his lap. “It refers to a wax writing surface used by Romans that could be 'erased' by heat. In philosophy, this 'erased tablet' describes the idea that humans are blank until they gain experiences, through which they form opinions and eventually a personality. One cannot form opinions until they have experiences to compare, after all. You could say that, in the debate of nurture versus nature, _tabula rasa_ supports nurturing being the more important of the two.” He inhaled, opened his eyes, and asked, “Does that answer your question? I could elaborate, if you wish.”

“Er...” Rantarou blinked dully. He hadn't expected such a thorough answer! In his surprise, he said the first thing that came to mind. “Have you ever thought of making audiobooks? Because wow, your voice is like...you're giving my eardrums a massage.” He laughed weakly, then continued, “I mean, yeah! I think I understand now. Thanks!”

Shinguuji raised an eyebrow at the strange compliment, but nodded. “If you have anything more you'd like to ask...”

“Well, there's the scene where Mu-Yong dances with Tsache. They talk a lot about past events, but there's a few parts I didn't quite understand.”

 


	2. rain, and beneath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day of watching.

The train ride to Hope's Peak wasn't necessarily the best place for people-watching, but it ranked up there, along with hospital lobbies and the halls of the school. Hashimoto-san was always on the phone with his daughter and asking what he should get for dinner. Haruka-chan and Asuka-chan played Pokemon – Platinum today, by the sound of it. Mori-san had her hair in a bun, so she was probably in a hurry that morning.

Exiting the train station a half hour later, Shinguuji Korekiyo opened their umbrella and began their slow-paced journey to the school gates, the pitter-pattering of rain and petrichor nearly lulling them to sleep as they walked.

It wasn't as if they couldn't stay in the dormitories, but the journey in total was about forty-five minutes, and the fees for having a room weren't worth the time saved. Besides, it was an opportunity to see humans as they were. Nobody had anything to prove on a train, of all places. And so many different people! The ride home was a small piece of heaven for Korekiyo, one they wouldn't give up just to get to school a little sooner. Besides, their older sister took care of them. There was nothing the school could provide equal to that.

Ah, they liked the rain. But it seeped under the bandages on their hands, under their leather mask, and made them itch. How unfortunate.

Their hands stung a little.

 

 

Homeroom was as noisy as ever, but that worked out fine. If it were noisy, that meant that people were talking, and if people were talking, Korekiyo could listen in. They wanted to read, but missing out on learning about humans would be a mistake. So they pretended to read instead, eavesdropping with none the wiser.

“Ooh, is that a new hairpin? It's _super_ cute, Akamatsu-chan!”

“Gonta and Tanaka-kun are going to see if the caterpillars are in their cocoons! Do you want to come?”

“How can Kami-sama be asleep that much? Maybe he needs a change in diet.”

“It's a flashlight that shines through one layer of clothing! _What?!_ Of _course_ it's fuckin' useful!”

Humans were lovely.

 

 

Korekiyo did attend some classes, but the early morning was reserved for spectating. Ultimates, reserve course students, faculty...they weren't picky about who they listened in on. They might not really have counted as an anthropologist, but that didn't change the fact that this was what they enjoyed the most, second only to reading.

And it was going smoothly up until they stumbled over a bag left in the hall.

That part wasn't the problem, not at all. Korekiyo could deal with a moment of humiliation with poise.

What was a problem was that their classmate, Momota, came to help them up. By grasping their left hand with unnecessary strength and pulling.

It _hurt._

Hissing with pain, they clutched their injured hand with the other. “Thank you, Momota-kun...” they said, their voice completely saturated with spite. There was blood oozing out between the bandages, where their ring and pinky fingers met.

Momota's eyes widened, looking terribly guilty. He fumbled about and managed to lift Korekiyo clumsily onto their feet. “Fuck, sorry! Look, lemmie just-”

They recoiled, eyes narrow. “Don't touch me. I can walk.”

It was just as well that a third person entered the conversation then. “Are you okay?” Amami asked, a book in one hand and comb in the other. “Oh wow, that looks awful. Want me to walk you to the nurse's office?”

Korekiyo's eyes flicked between the two. Their expressions made it clear that neither would actually let them go alone. With a quiet sigh, they murmured, “Fine then, Amami-kun.” and began to leave without waiting for a response.

The two said little, other than Amami asking why their hand was bleeding, to which he got no answer.

 

 

For being the Ultimate Nurse, Tsumiki Mikan never came across as reliable until she got down to business. Another part of human beauty that Korekiyo currently couldn't take note of due to being in pain.

They hated hated _hated_ that this had happened, and not because it hurt. The fact was that it would have been unsanitary to leave the bloodied bandages on, and Tsumiki was adamant that a wound that bled this badly needed stitches. Which meant she had to see what was under the bandages.

Unravelling them, the girl's face had nothing but complete and utter shock on it. She said nothing, for whatever it was worth, but the plethora of scars and bruises she'd seen... If she told the school staff about this (and she would, if she had any sense of responsibility whatsoever), that would be very bad. To say the least.

The gash in Korekiyo's hand was fairly nasty, too. It wasn't like any bones had been exposed, but, as Tsumiki explained, it would likely have gotten infected without proper care, or just not have healed well and left them with a slightly disfigured hand. At least the stitching process was painless. And now Korekiyo could look forward to being doped up with whatever she'd given them to deal with the pain after the anaesthetic wore off.

_Mental note: Tsumiki-san. Someone to keep an eye on. Also someone to go to should I ever need my hands treated. It's useless to hide it from her now._

They swallowed, as if it would make the anxiety disappear, and picked at the fresh bandages.

 

 

“Angie's been looking for you! Please come in!”

It was true that the school day had ended, but Korekiyo wasn't sure about the sudden interruption. They had more important tasks, like spending an hour at the train station to observe humans. “Why should I do that?”

The tanned artist clasped her hands together and spoke, “Kami-sama's been asleep recently because He doesn't have much inspiration, but when Angie saw you, He was right out of bed! He needs you as His model and won't take no for an answer! Also, there's free lemonade. Freshly made, too!” She closed her eyes in reverence. “Made with Angie's own hands. You can't be more blessed than that.”

“If you really insist,” the folklorist sighed, sensing that this girl would not easily give up. And at any rate, watching an artist at work could be interesting.

Angie lead them into the art room, large and spacious as a warehouse. Most of her work station was already set up, but she hopped into the supply closet, carrying out a pile of clothes moments later. “You'll need this! Please change and sit here!” she chirped, indicating a small tatami mat some metres in front of her.

Korekiyo didn't mind changing in front of the artist, so they simply removed their outer layers of clothes and inspected what she'd given them. The clothes were a mild green _iromuji_ and _geta_ , along with a hairpin decorated with a white flower. _Simple and tasteful. I suppose she sees me as a Japanese beauty?_

They sat on the tatami in the pose Angie instructed, and allowed her to silently paint them. About an hour passed in this way, with the Ultimate Artist in a trance, slashing at the canvas with her brush and occasionally making a comment to herself like “Ooh, just like that” or “Nicely done, Kami-sama”.

“If I may ask...why do you act as though your 'Kami-sama' is the painter and not yourself?”

Angie smiled a little at the question. “That's because He is! Angie may be the Ultimate Artist, but in truth, Kami-sama is the one doing the work. When He gets the urge to paint or sculpt or draw, He uses my body so that He may create what He desires. It's a strange miracle!”

Ah, Korekiyo had heard of such phenomenons before, the idea that a deity had possessed a person to affect the physical world. Not just in art, but in battle, in speeches, or any number of other activities. They didn't have any strong opinions on religion, being agnostic, but the idea that someone could be so passionate about their work to the point of believing that a supernatural being must have done it was a showcase of how brilliant the human spirit could be.

The two took a short break after that. The lemonade was a touch too sweet, and the pulp got stuck in the straw, but it was proof that Angie was true to her word. “Tell me, are there any tales told about Kami-sama?”

The artist grinned. “Weelll, there is one story Angie loves about a turtle and a shark...”

Even when she resumed painting, she continued with the stories and never once asked Korekiyo to remove their mask or bandages. It was a small blessing.

Their hands itched.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> iromuji - a kimono without any patterns, just solid colours


	3. outwards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything is fine.

God, the morning sun was beautiful.

Peering out of his tent, Rantarou couldn't help himself. Watching as the world lit up, listening to bird songs, feeling the dew on the grass with his hands...

Okay, he might have rolled in the grass a little. A little!

After that, it was time for breakfast. One thing he never could go without was his trusty mini frying pan. It was easy enough for him to reach a few birds' nests, so he took an egg from each. Given the species of bird, these ones were likely to have been laid recently and thus fine to eat. He'd tried cooking eggs without checking before and had felt slightly sick about the idea of eating a half-developed chick. And while Rantarou could wonder why he didn't feel the same about the large amount of animals he'd consumed in his life so far...he wasn't going to.

The sound as he built a fire was enough to draw out the other occupant of the tent – a certain white-haired robot. “Good morning, Amami-kun! I see that you did well today.”

The weather had warmed up by this time of year, and staying cooped up in school any longer was totally impossible for the Ultimate Adventurer. But while he did have permission to go anywhere he wanted, missing a ton of lessons during a long trip wasn't his style, so the Japanese wilderness had to do. And he'd been able to get Kiibo, the Ultimate Robot, to travel with him.

Speaking of which, Kiibo was looking around wildly with a cute smile and blue eyes glowing with excitement. “I can't believe today's the last day,” he said, a somewhat sad tone in his artificial voice, “You were right, Amami-kun: pictures and videos can't compare!”

Oh, and he could even _blush_ too. That was just too much, and Rantarou almost burnt his eggs while staring. “I'm glad you're here, Kiibo-kun. I thought that maybe 'for the sake for developing your AI' wasn't going to be good enough for the school board. That would have been sad, don't you think?” He let a small grin creep up onto his face. Teaching Kiibo about the local wildlife and plants, showing him what he was missing when he was in a laboratory all day – the robot was so innocent and eager to learn.

(He felt a bit guilty. He'd spent the last couple of weeks getting to know Kiibo, and now Kokichi had targeted said robot for endless pranks. Harmless ones, but constant.)

“I can feel summer coming up fast... Maybe during the holiday, I'll go to Russia.”

“Er, Amami-kun, how can you _feel_ the summer? I don't think the solstice is a physical force!”

“Yeah, but,” Rantarou leaned back onto the grass, his breakfast finished, “it's a gradual change. The solstice just marks the longest and shortest days of the year. The sun's up for longer, everything's growing, the cicadas are starting to cry... That's how you know.” He held up an arm, satisfied with how the early light made his bracelets sparkle.

Kiibo stared for a bit at the sky and trees, then sat down next to Rantarou. “I'm not sure if I understand. I'll have to see if I can 'feel' it when autumn comes.”

 

 

Shinguuji scratched at his bandaged knuckles. “I don't know why you're so...compelled to do this.”

“It's not like you need to,” Rantarou replied, filling in his notebook with neat, curvy hiragana, “but you've been helping me out for a while, and I just thought, well, we're sort of friends. More like acquaintances, maybe? Anyway, you said it was quiet at your house.” He sat up and stretched out his arms, making a slightly pained noise. His back made a popping sound. “Um, wow, that was unpleasant.”

“That's what you get for lying on the floor,” came the mocking reply. To Shinguuji's credit, his voice was 30% less smug than anyone else would've sounded.

It had been a few days since Rantarou and Kiibo had returned from their week out. During that time, the weather had warmed up nicely, but it wouldn't be long until the rainy season either. In fact, it was raining today, which seemed to really mess with his concentration. Okay, he was just procrastinating – he'd spent most of the past hour trying to get the folklorist to visit his home.

“And here, I was under the impression that you needed my help in learning symbolism. Instead, you want to introduce me to your father and many siblings.” The textbook he'd brought hadn't been opened in twenty minutes, but the rain must have been affecting him too, because there he was, using it as a pillow on Rantarou's desk.

And so the two sat in near silence, the rain splattering against the glass window in a calming rhythm. They both were near-asleep when Rantarou stood up, removed his rings, and dropped them into a box on the bedside table behind him.

“You mind?” he asked, digging a comb and scissors out of the table's drawer. “You've got a bit in the back that's _seriously_ frizzy.”

There was no response, nor any resistance when he walked up behind Shinguuji and slowly pulled the comb through his dark strands of hair. If anything, he relaxed a tiny bit. His eyes, normally half-closed and cold, shut completely. It was really shocking because his classmate always seemed sharp and pointy, and wow, he was just...out like a light, with none of his usual tension.

Rantarou couldn't help it if the soft smile he had wouldn't go away. He couldn't go home all the time, but he could almost imagine one of his sisters – probably Ruka-chan – sitting here instead. They'd all cried the first time their older brother cut their hair, hadn't they? But now, even the youngest would ask for Tarou-chan to help her get ready for school. It was at the point where even his father stopped going to a professional barber.

And it didn't stop at his family. Kokichi had been Rantarou's guinea pig for years. Saihara was shy with his personal space, but looked ecstatic after his first haircut. And recently Kaede, Gonta, and-

He touched Shinguuji's face.

The would-be beautician didn't think about it at first. Brushing against someone's face when you needed your hands on their hair was just a thing that happened.

What he didn't expect was for Shinguuji to yelp, twitch violently (almost getting a mouthful of scissors), and shrink back away from Rantarou as best as he could.

“H-hey, Shinguuji-san...” _You look more like a feral cat than a person right now._ “Hey. Look, it's just me.” He rested his tools on the bedside table and lowered himself a little, making sure he didn't invade any personal space. Softly, he instructed, “If you could breathe in nice and slowly...yeah, like that. Now exhale...”

Luckily for both of them, it only took a little more than a minute for Shinguuji to calm himself, something which Rantarou was eternally thankful for. He helped the dark-haired boy up, gently gripping his arms.

One cup of tea later, Shinguuji was still sweating, but it looked like it was from embarrassment now. “My apologies,” he mumbled, face red, “That was foolish, shameful behaviour, I know. There wasn't any reason for me to-”

“It's fine. I've seen worse from my sisters.” Seated on the floor again, Rantarou waved his hand dismissively. “It looks like you have a pretty nasty bruise on your cheek. Sorry 'bout that. I bet it really hurt, right?”

Silence overtook them again, and it was an uncomfortable one this time. It would've been better not to ask at all. The folklorist kept to himself when possible and never seemed keen on revealing his emotions. But eventually, he looked up from his staring contest with the tea cup. “One of my subjects for observation found out that they were, well, being observed, and reacted violently.” Was that a wry smile under the mask? “Call it an occupational hazard.”

Even when the other boy went home, Rantarou was...pretty troubled about this, to be honest with himself. And despite his best efforts, the feeling of worry stayed with him. He trimmed his own wavy green hair, played his favourite gacha game, polished his many, many ear piercings...but a weird feeling gnawed at his stomach. Maybe it wasn't his problem, but he wouldn't rest if he just left things as they were.

 

 

“ _Nishishi...you're secretly a huge worrywart, huh, Tarou-chan?”_

“ _Hmm, sorry. I just thought you wanted help, but if-”_

“ _Now who said it was a bad thing? I like that side of you.”_

 

 

Well, he didn't like snooping in other people's business, but there was someone he knew who wouldn't mind.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not good at replying to comments so...I'll just say that I'm really glad people like this! Wow, what a world.
> 
> (everything is fine)


	4. not happening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Today was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next few chapters get a little heavy. Stay safe, friends.

Angie's face was an open book, as usual, pursing her lips or raising her eyebrows as she worked on the finer details of her latest piece, _“The Last Rites of Ishikawa Goemon”_. Across from her, Korekiyo stood, dressed in black and red robes, and a long smoking pipe in their right hand. Behind them was a wall of poorly-cut planks, covered with dust and cobwebs to resemble an old prison.

They weren't entirely sure that any of this was historically accurate, but Angie had been very reasonable with her requests the past weeks. For the most part, she only asked to sketch Korekiyo in the morning and during lunch break, and was happy to draw them as they went about their day. It was two days ago when Angie strode up to them and proclaimed, “Did you hear? Kami-sama's first work based on you got really popular, and it's all over Twitter and stuff! So He wants to make a series based on you and the stories you told Angie!”

Korekiyo wasn't a fool – they took some pride in their looks, and while they never dated anyone, their classmates in middle school sometimes whispered and gossiped, usually about how neat and beautiful their hair was, or their mysterious face. But to be the subject of a renowned painter's work? To be her _model_ for a series? It was a bit too much. Then again, Angie mostly acted according to her whims, so chances were that she chose whoever was most convenient for her theme.

Yet, when she praised the folklorist in their costume, a warm feeling settled in their chest. And when Amami and Ouma stopped by and agreed that yes, they were rather good-looking, that same feeling spread throughout their whole body.

Today was a good day.

 

 

Really, they should have expected trouble when they spotted Iruma Miu in the hall on their way outside. She was a difficult person to handle when she was happy, and the soot and smouldering hair definitely signalled that she was _not_ happy.

“Oi, Shitguuji. Get over here a sec.”

The two went into a nearby girls' bathroom, Iruma claiming that nobody would care, and “it's the closest your virgin ass is gonna get to seeing a girl naked anyway”. Korekiyo couldn't even dignify that with a response. Which was the case 90% of the time with her.

An awkward moment passed, so they took the initiative. “Iruma-san, is there any reason you-”

“No shit, Sherlock. You think I wanna talk to you and your weird-ass gimp mask?” she snapped, twirling a lock of light hair around her fingers, looking bored. But then suddenly, she frowned. “Um, geez, lemmie start over. I need you to do me a favour, and...” Oh no, she was blushing and giving them the half-closed eyes, a sidelong glance, “a-and I'll give you anything if y-you say yes! E-even my body!”

“...I'd rather you just let me know what you want first.”

“Oh, uh, sure!” Her posture straightened and she made eye contact, with no trace of embarrassment from before. “So there's this guy who shares the workshop with me, Souda Kazuichi, Fuckin' idiot, seriously, but he's good at building stuff way faster than I can. Some Ultimate Mechanic bullshit, I dunno. Anyway!” The blonde jabbed her index finger into Korekiyo's chest. “Kazu-itchy's birthday is in a couple weeks, and I got some sweet intel that says you like _baking._ ”

She stepped back, arms crossed over her chest, a huge smirk glued to her face. Korekiyo blinked.

“I...don't know who told you that, but-”

“Ooh, sorry, maybe I should call you 'Kore-chan'?”

A beat. “Ah. I see.” Their wrists itched, and they must have looked awfully uncomfortable because the inventor's gloating expression softened.

“Fuck's sake, I'm not gonna make fun of you. I really want your help, and I'm not asking that dickless pervert chef for food ever again! So yeah, the date's the 29th, and it's probably better if you make cupcakes? Course, I'd totally be into it if you made a couple of those cock-shaped doughnuts or...” And there she went, rambling on about baked goods that resembled genitals or other sexual objects. Korekiyo found themself very interested in how the dingy bathroom lighting reflected off their uniform's chains. Not that Iruma wasn't worthy of observation, but it was...a little embarrassing to listen to her.

When there was a break in Iruma's rant, they took their chance. “There's nothing I want from you as payment, but I also don't see myself being busy anytime soon. So long as I am invited and may observe you all, I'll do it.”

Anyone else would think that Iruma's request was annoying, sudden, and inconvenient, but a birthday party was not something they had many chances to see before. A human tradition, a celebration found just about anywhere in the world, yet different in every country. Countless foods, dances, music, and art had been created solely to show peoples' joy from orbiting around the sun once more. Even the dead could have their birthday celebrated if they were considered to be significant enough! In other words, a fantastic display of the love and beauty in the human spirit! And they were invited to one for the low, practically negligible cost of _cupcakes...!_

Iruma stared blankly as the folklorist embraced themself, shivering and barely able to contain their ecstasy. “...Yeah, okay. I'll just...email you with the details later. Don't cream yourself or nothin', Shitguuji.” She left, rolling her eyes. “Fuckin' freak.”

Today was a _very_ good day.

 

 

It was raining. It had been raining for the past few days. Everything itched horribly. They made no effort to avoid the weather, though. Scratching their hands raw was the least they deserved. If they were lucky, there would be a flash flood _(in the middle of the city? you utter idiot)_ and a truck would run them over in a rush to escape.

A flood didn't happen, so Korekiyo settled for the closest book store. The owner remarked on their soaking clothes and brought out a towel and coffee.

“Are you sure you don't need help, Korekiyo-kun? You look an awful mess.” Shake head, insert monotone reassurance that they were fine, yes really. “If you're sure... Don't be afraid to ask if you need anything, alright sweetie?”

Of course, they knew that Yahiro-san was well-intentioned, as acquainted as she was with everyone in the area, but it wouldn't help. Because she would undoubtedly jump to conclusions and think that Nee-san was at fault, and that was so untrue that they couldn't even comprehend the thought. Their older sister was sweet and clever and charming, the pinnacle of human brilliance. She had raised Korekiyo, even though she had been much too young to try being a parent, and made sure that they never wanted for anything.

But they weren't going back home tonight. It wasn't as if they deserved it after spitting in the face of her kindness. They should never have trusted _that nurse_ , but they had. She'd been rather nice, letting Korekiyo visit as they pleased and not saying a word about their scars. She'd fooled them, no, _manipulated_ them into trusting her. They only wanted for Nee-san to be left in peace, but now the poor woman was being demonised, all because her naïve younger sibling couldn't fix their own problems.

Today was not a good day.

 


	5. 60% unintentional

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 80% regrets

“I swear I saw him go there. C'mon, let's go!”

“Won't it look weird if we just walk in there like 'hey yeah, what a coincidence'?”

“You're the one who asked DICE to get dirt on him-”

“I didn't ask for _dirt_.”

Kokichi chewed on his lower lip in thought. “Yeah, okay, that's true. But are we doing this or not?” he asked, leaning against a poster-covered shop window.

“We're already here, so,” Rantarou sighed deeply, like he hadn't done that thirty times already, “Might as well as go all the way. You're a real pain sometimes.”

The short boy closed his umbrella and grinned, in that twisted way he always did. “I know you still love me, though.”

“Hmm...if you say so.”

Alright, he did like Kokichi a lot, but now wasn't the time to react to the supreme leader's dramatics. Setting foot into the book store, the smell of old paper and coffee grounds slammed into Rantarou much like his friend had earlier. The books were much quieter than him, thank god. The store's owner greeted them from her counter, with a polite _don't be afraid to ask if you need anything_. The place was pretty well-lit and clean, and at a table in the far corner was-

“Shinguuji-chan! Wow, what a coincidence!”

Rantarou squeezed his eyes shut. Yeah, that was a headache coming on. Actually following Shinguuji around hadn't been his plan, and that was a sorry attempt at a lie by anyone's standards. He really wanted to try and get to know the folklorist, but this weird stalking thing was going to ruin any chances he had. This couldn't get any worse.

And then he noticed that A) Shinguuji was soaked and didn't have his hat or uniform jacket, despite the bad weather, B) his eyes were ringed with red, and C) he hadn't even reacted to the two at all.

Alright then. He had to start _somewhere_. “You okay, Shin-”

“Pretty sure he's not, Tarou-chan. He looks like his dog died.”

“Yeah, um, not helpful.”

“I'm serious!” Kokichi sat in the chair across from their silent classmate, crossing his arms. “Look, he's got a towel right here,” he grabbed said object, which obviously hadn't been used at all, “so you dry him off. I'd feel bad if he died of pneumonia.”

_Then why don't you do this?_ came Rantarou's mental retort. He shoved it down. _Later, I can talk about that later._ Instead, he carefully rubbed the towel over Shinguuji's damp hair, which looked more like seaweed than part of a human body. Meanwhile, Kokichi was trying and failing to get any kind of response. It didn't matter whether he was gentle or rude or pretending to cry, none of it worked until he leaned over the table and shook Shinguuji's shoulders wildly.

“Oh.” He blinked once, twice, then his eyebrows scrunched together in confusion when he realised that Kokichi and Rantarou were right there. “Do you two...need something?”

 

 

Kokichi came back to the table with two cups of coffee, humming out-of-tune to some show's theme song. Probably Featherman R or something. Lucky for him that Rantarou kept cash in his wallet. If there was one thing guaranteed to make an evil leader happy, it was free stuff.

“So!” he began, passing a cinnamon latte to the adventurer, “any reason why you thought you should go out like that? You weren't squishing worms on the pavement, were you? 'Cause I'd have to tell Gonta if you did!” Kokichi nearly slammed down his drink to show that he meant business. He wasn't really angry, they all knew, not like worm rights were something he cared about.

God, this place had good coffee. Why hadn't he heard of it before?

“No, nothing like that. I usually spend some time watching the locals as part of my research and was caught in the rainfall. It was heavier than expected, wouldn't you say?” With the zip on his mask undone, Shinguuji sipped his (likely tepid) coffee through a straw. His trademark half-asleep gaze was trained on the supreme leader's bandanna. It had a green stain from _somewhere_ , probably years ago.

There was something off about that. _Wouldn't he have...?_ “Really? So where's your notebook?” Rantarou asked, “Wait, first of all, you have a phone. I know you said you don't really like using it, but at least check the weather once in a while.” He tapped his chin. “And it's June too, so of course it'd rain, right?”

“...What do you want?” Rantarou shuddered when the tall boy glared at him, making direct eye contact. “I find it hard to believe that you two just so happened to find this store, as nondescript as it is, enter it not long after I did, you immediately start asking questions...and it was supposed to be a coincidence?” Another slurp of coffee. “Get to the point.”

_Well, that didn't last long at all, did it?_ Kokichi's cheerful facade never faltered, but he was fidgeting slightly. And while most people wouldn't notice that, Rantarou hadn't known him for years for nothing. The troublemaker was nervous.

So instead of trying to fool his classmate and failing, he may as well be honest. _Not like I can do any more damage._ He leaned back and admitted it: “I asked Kokichi to find out a little about you, make sure you were okay. He took it a little far and ended up getting...a lot of personal info.”

“...”

“W-what the hell, Tarou-chan, you shouldn't lie like-”

“It's not a lie. I was just worried.”

“You...were worried.” Shit, the temperature dropped twenty degrees.

“Yeah. And I'm really, really sorry.” Rantarou bowed as well as he could in a chair. “It wasn't any of my business.”

This seriously couldn't get worse. His neck prickled from sweating, leaning forward and waiting for some kind of answer. It was fine, Shinguuji was pissed off (and who could blame him?). But now he was tilting his head a bit, like he was studying the adventurer's face. Why wasn't he saying _anything?_

“...Okay, then.”

Oh. Huh?

“My life is already at its lowest point. So whatever.”

Rantarou sat up so fast that he pulled a muscle in his neck. Kokichi breathed a barely audible “um, what?”

“I've made a mistake. I'll never be allowed back home again, so let me tell you what I'm doing. I'm going to finish this coffee, thank Yahiro-san for her kindness, and sleep on the train tracks.”

The two old friends gaped at each other. “Hey, isn't that...you know...” Kokichi had totally given up pretending to be happy. “Like, I don't know what you did, but-!”

“...Do you need a place to stay?”

The words had just slipped out, honestly. He didn't know what kind of reaction Shinguuji expected, but that hadn't been it, given how he stared in confusion. So Rantarou continued his thought. “My family won't mind an unexpected guest. I mean, Kokichi drops by randomly all the time. If you don't have anywhere to go, then...” He gave the folklorist a relaxed smile, and he'd be damned if it didn't fool both of the people listening to him.

Not that it was guaranteed to work. He didn't know enough about Shinguuji. Was he looking for comfort? Was he the kind of person who could bounce back from this and go back to normal? Hell, they'd only known each other for a little more than what, two months, so maybe _this_ was normal.

Finally, after what had been maybe five minutes but felt like an hour, he got an answer.

“Will you leave me alone if I say yes?”

“Yeah, if you want.”

 

 

An hour's train ride later, and not too long of a walk, the three boys stepped into Rantarou's house. It was a pretty nice place, if he did say so himself. Not a mansion, but pretty big, enough for eight children and their father (or was it thirteen children? he still didn't know how many siblings he had). He walked in and took off his shoes and jacket, leaving them in the huge heap of his family's outdoor wear.

“So, hey, welcome to my place,” Rantarou said, holding out an arm like he was showing off. “Make yourself at home.”

Almost like clockwork, the three youngest sisters ran up to him, Ruka-chan hugging his legs while Mika-chan and Mei-chan grabbed on Kokichi's arms, shouting, “Koki-chan!” Kokichi laughed and promised them that he'd play games and try Mei-chan's cookies later.

“Um, Tarou-nii... Who's that?”

The other two younger sisters were looking at the group from the top of the stairwell, Umi-chan pointing to one person in particular. The youngest three noticed the stranger as well and froze up.

Rantarou chuckled and gestured toward Shinguuji. “You guys don't need to be scared, okay? This is my friend, Shinguuji-san.”

Mei-chan squinted at the long-haired figure and made a thoughtful noise. “Are you a boy or a girl?”

“Now Mei-chan, that's-”

“Neither.”

Rantarou blinked back his surprise, mouth forming a silent “oh”. So much for telling Mei-chan that she was being impolite. _I wish you'd told me that earlier._

Except that was pretty damn rude, too. He'd said that to his older brother, in what was one of his biggest blunders ever, and it had taken a month for Jun-nii to feel comfortable speaking with him again. So instead, Rantarou squatted down to his sisters' level and put a hand on Mei-chan's shoulder.

“That's right. You know how you call someone 'they' when you don't know if they're a boy or a girl?” The five sisters nodded. “Well, that's what you should call Shinguuji-san all the time. They're part of our family while they're here, so please get along with them.”

Seeing that the tall scary stranger was a friend, the crowd of girls dispersed, leaving their brother as he thought of what to say. This whole “friendship” thing wasn't looking too good. “Haha, wow... Uh, sorry about that, Shinguuji-san. I was going to say you were a man.”

A shrug. “No offense taken. You weren't in possession of telepathy, last I checked.” They stared at the room, an entrance hall with polished wood floors and wallpaper that peeled a little. “This building appears to have some history to it,” they said with an approving tone. “I hope that someone here can provide me with information.”

“Yeah, yeah, but more importantly...” Kokichi called, making his way to the right-hand room. “I'm starving! Hey, Tarou-chan, make like a tree and get me some food!”

 


	6. you know, napolitan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a perfectly average family, and a friend, and a stranger

Minutes later, Amami and the two eldest siblings were set up, preparing a meal. It was strange, if Korekiyo had to be honest. They had travelled a great deal and met with plenty of friendly people, but having an entire family welcome you into their home so easily – it was a bit unsettling.

Ouma, who sat beside them at the enormous table, was humming a simple tune to himself, fingers drumming on the fine wood. At some point, though, he stopped and gazed at the group in the kitchen. “Sooo, Shinguuji-chan, you ever had Napolitan before?”

The question surprised them after being quiet for so long, but the folklorist nodded quickly. “If you mean the pasta dish developed in Japan, then yes. Not often, but it is quite popular, isn't it?”

“Eww, do you still eat it?” Ouma stuck out his tongue. “That stuff's for kids! It's gross, so I thought someone fancy like you wouldn't eat it. I'm disappointed!” He puffed out his cheeks, reminding Korekiyo of a thieving chipmunk they'd once encountered in Russia.

“I...see. I didn't realise you felt tha-”

The short boy interrupted them with a snicker. “Nishishishi! You take everything so seriously!” Ouma rested his chin in his hands, smiling widely. “Actually, I like it a lot. If I don't have it at least once a week, I beat up one of my organisation's grunts. It's their job to make it for me, so they deserve it if they can't even do that much, you know?”

Korekiyo raised an eyebrow, but smiled too, just a little. Ouma's lies and half-truths made him a particularly fascinating human. “You must not have high membership retention, then. A villain who punishes or kills their servants will always be betrayed.” They leaned forward and continued, “So then, how did your organisation reach, what was it, 100,000 members?”

“Well...you're right! I don't hurt anyone, especially not for something dumb like spaghetti. People who resort to violence to get their way are the worst!” He scowled for a moment, but went back to smiling and hopped out of his chair. “Anyway, they're not making Napolitan, but Maya-chan's pretty much married to Italian food, and Jun-chan and Tarou-chan are good cooks too. So I'll go see what they're up to, 'cause I can't wait!” And with that, Ouma dashed into the kitchen, bombarding its occupants with questions as soon as he entered.

Their dinner turned out to be _penne all'arrabbiata_ , and as Ouma had said, the three who prepared it were very, very skilled. A shame that Korekiyo had a low spice tolerance. At least nobody asked why they requested to eat alone.

 

 

Across from the house's entrance was a spacious room with numerous chairs, tables, and a television that was wider than Korekiyo was tall. They couldn't understand who on earth needed something so...excessively large, but wealthy people were interesting in that way. There were also a variety of game consoles and some small bookshelves, so they took a bird encyclopedia and sat in an armchair. They pulled their mask down and ate while reading, enjoying the quiet with the chatter from the dining hall as background noise.

_This pasta really is good_ , they thought, with their nose running from the pepper. _I'll make Italy my next destination. I wonder if the Vatican as grand as I've heard?_ Ah, their plate was empty. A second helping sounded more appealing by the second.

“You alright here, Shinguuji-san?”

Oh. Amami. Had walked up to them. Just now. And he could see their face.

He handed them a napkin and said, “Well, I was also wondering...how was it? Maya-nee hasn't been home in a long time, but she got even better at cooking, somehow. And maybe I did too? So yeah, if you could-”

“You're trying to distract me.” Korekiyo knew that they must have looked ridiculous, with their face red and scarred, wiping the mucus from their nose. But their voice was even as ever. Maybe a little too monotone. “Or are you distracting yourself? I know my face is horrible. Just tell me that.”

Amami opened his mouth, but closed it without making a sound. He stuffed his hands into his pockets instead. Eventually, he found his words again. “My family will be in here soon, so...yeah. Better put your mask on and prepare to socialise.” He chuckled weakly and took Korekiyo's plate out for them. And, as if replacing him, the rest of the family streamed in shortly after. The folklorist barely had time to cover their face.

For the most part, everyone left them alone. The youngest three and Maya took control of the Wii U and played a kart racing game that was very colourful and fast-paced to the point where watching it made Korekiyo feel a bit motion sick. Amami, Ouma, and Jun played a card game – Old Maid, perhaps. Umi sat between the groups with a book. It was her twin, Inu, who was brave enough (or foolish enough) to talk to their guest.

“Tarou-nii was worried about you,” she said. Her face didn't waver and she didn't break eye contact, despite Korekiyo's intense gaze. “He talks about you. He said you help him out a lot with schoolwork when he's stuck, so...you're probably not a bad person.” She looked them up and down, then nodded. “Tarou-nii was right. You're really pretty.”

They choked on air.

“I said their _hair_ was pretty. Don't make it weird, Inu-chan.”

The young teen smirked, resembling Ouma more than anyone would have admitted. “Yeah, I know.”

“Does anyone else wanna play?” Mika called out, holding her controller up in the air. “We're gonna get ice cream!”

Ouma and Amami took up her offer and, with a little coaxing, Korekiyo sighed and closed their book. They hadn't owned a console more recent than a Playstation, when they were very young, but those two had a _look_ that made it clear that acceptance was the only option. They made their way to the sofa in front of the television.

“Okay, so,” Amami started when they'd seated themself, handing them a controller, “this game is pretty simple, but you haven't played anything in ages, right? So you hold it like this...” He gently moved Korekiyo's fingers to where they needed to be on the buttons (which they thought was entirely unnecessary). “You hold A to drive, B to stop, the left stick to steer, and L to use an item. You got it?”

They thought they had it. They were wrong.

“Maybe we should've done this on 50cc instead,” the adventurer mumbled after Shy Guy came in last for the third time. “You look, like, really confused.”

“But Tarou-chaaaan, that's for kids! Going slow is so _boring._ ”

“There's no need for that. I'm just overwhelmed, that is all.”

“Yeah, there's no need for that! Kaede-chan never played this game either and she was fine.” Ouma rested his arms behind his head. “But I guess Shinguuji-chan never plays games at all, so I can allow it. Just this once, okay?”

“Then that's settled. This'll be much slower, so you won't bump into walls or fall off as much. Maybe pick some car parts that...”

There was something odd about having people aside from Nee-san trying to help them. Humans were beautiful beings, but that beauty did not always take the form of kindness, and it was much less likely when directed toward themself. The folklorist was at a bit of a loss. They had been invited to the house of someone who they didn't know all that well, given food of exceptional quality, and now these two were sacrificing their enjoyment of a game just to...include them in the group? Was that it? Whatever the reason, it made their stomach feel sick, though it almost felt nice.

_That doesn't make sense. You're being sentimental._

Their hands itched where Amami had held them.

 

 

Amami chewed on his bottom lip. “Are you going to be okay?”

“If I look 'okay' to you, then please do me a favour and wear glasses.”

Several hours of games later, Korekiyo remembered something very important. Namely, that they had not contacted Nee-san at all, and it was now closing in on midnight. She would be worried, likely afraid that her only family had gone missing, and it would be all their fault. As always.

“Right, I deserved that. But I don't think she'll be that mad.”

They tapped out a quick message, hands shaking so awfully that they had to re-type every word at least three times. She might have called the police by now. You couldn't file a missing persons report in this short a time, but that never stopped anyone. She would be pacing through the house, unable to sleep, and be forced to work exhausted and stressed.

“You're wrong. She'll never forgive me for this. Once she hears that I ignored her for something so trivial as this, she'll...!” Beep. “...Ah?”

Amami leaned over to read the phone screen.

 

_From: Nee-san (Today at 11:34 PM)_

_Thank goodness you're alright. I wish you'd contacted me a little earlier, but I'm happy that you made a friend. Hope you're having a good time!_

 

“...Oh.”

Amami had a smug smile and didn't even try to hide it. “Well, I guess you were scared for nothing.”

“You be quiet,” Korekiyo hissed, keeping their voice down as to not wake Ouma, who had passed out on the sofa, drooling. “If what happened here gets out, I will tear your nerves out with a dull scalpel.”

“Spooky.” He got to his feet and stretched out, with a pop and a satisfied _ahh._ “Normally, Kokichi sleeps in my room, but I don't want to carry him up. So I guess that means you're sharing with me. Lucky you, huh?” he asked, giving a playful wink.

They ignored that, opting to follow Amami silently out of the room and up the stairwell. Korekiyo noticed that they were still trembling. Less than before, but still, there was no reason for them to still feel anxious. No, of course not. It wasn't like this was their first time sleeping over at a friend's house. And even if that were the case, they had nothing to fear from Amami. So, knowing that, they were not going to be afraid.

(It was their first time sleeping over and they still felt anxiety despite being perfectly safe. The human brain was wonderfully irrational like that.)

Amami's bedroom was unexpectedly _fashionable_. Given his talent, Korekiyo had envisioned outdoor gear and souvenirs from his journeys, with little room for common things like manga and makeup. And yes, he did have a corner set aside for a tent, portable stove, and other camping essentials, but to be honest, it felt like they'd somehow walked into a celebrity's dressing room. What drew their attention was a vanity, with tall, imposing mirrors and enough jewellery displayed to finance a town. The closet was open and filled with an array of shirts and jackets, all with intricate designs.

The bed, the carpet, the walls themselves, everything was colourful and bright. It felt like Angie had somehow shoved the two inside one of her paintings.

Amami picked up some magazines from his bed covers and set them on the vanity. “Nothing's as expensive as it looks. Honest.” That didn't sound even remotely sincere. “Okay, so you,” he opened a bureau drawer and took out an oversized shirt, “put this on. I don't think anything I have will fit your twiggy build. And I have a spare futon, but it's kind of a pain to drag it in here so...” He shrugged. “Mind sharing?”

“Not at all.” That was a lie.

_Perhaps years of dealing with Ouma and camping with just about everyone he knows has caused Amami to lose his sense of personal space?_ That was only a theory, of course, but an informed one. He always maintained a pleasant, neutral face but yet was perfectly open to physical contact and affection. Normally, Korekiyo would have found that fascinating, another aspect of their peer that they hadn't known. Instead, they felt...out of place, somehow.

That feeling remained once they both had changed into sleepwear and were lying in the dark, staring at the ceiling. It was a nice ceiling, with that textured plaster look that many western houses had. People spoke of seeing animals and faces in the ridges, and right now Korekiyo could see-

“Sorry 'bout all this.”

“...What?”

There was rustling to their left as Amami lifted his arms and slipped them behind his pillow. “I did kinda invite you here on the spot, you know? You just looked like... Well, you said you couldn't go home, so I thought maybe...you needed help?” A quiet sigh.

Amami was more right than he knew, but it was difficult to admit that, so the taller one didn't respond. Except now, the silence was even more thinly stretched and awkward. So they said the first thought that came to mind.

“I haven't shared a bed with anyone since I was very young. I'd forgotten what it was like.” And they knew that they must have sounded like an idiot then, but that bottled-up nervousness had been uncapped and was fizzing out. “When I was a child, I was scared of lightning, and it would always wake me no matter how late it had gotten. And Nee-san, I don't know why she put up with it, but she always let me in her room and read books to me.” If they closed their eyes, they could picture their sister's face, younger, yet as serene and serious then as she was now. “My favourites were her collections of fables and mythological tales. She knew how to take on a role and capture those dramatic characters perfectly. I'd like to think that Nee-san could've been an actor because she was just...” _incredible? believable? living as someone she wasn't?_ “...very, very good at it.”

Korekiyo couldn't help but ramble on then, detailing every story that Nee-san had ever told them. The Wedding of Ms. Fox, Athena's birth, Ame-no-Uzume's dance... They would have wasted the entire night like that, but at some point, Amami had turned his head, staring at them. Mostly likely too polite to ask them to stop talking. Which would be reasonable – he hadn't asked for any of that information.

But then he closed his eyes and returned to his default smile, and said, “Your sister sounds like an awesome person. I guess you know that, don't you?”

“Did you...really listen to that?”

“Yeah, and I'm relieved, actually. I still have to do that stuff with my youngest sisters, and it can be exhausting, and I don't always know how to calm them down, but,” his grin had widened, “it's just awesome to know that they like me, and I wouldn't trade away the time I get to spend with them. I wanna help them out if I can, and, well...”

A moment passed as Amami thought. “Sorry, what I'm trying to say is, you obviously care about her a lot. I was a little worried earlier, sounded like she was super strict or something?”

“Not at all! I wouldn't want anyone to think that.” The adventurer didn't remark on how they raised their voice for a moment.

“I kinda did, but...when you were talking about her, it was like...” He raised a hand into the air, clenched but then relaxed into an open palm. “You just sounded really happy? Like, you usually talk like you're doing a book report.” His arm went back under the pillow. “In the best way, of course. But...she must be a really good person, right?”

He kept on like that for a while, but Korekiyo didn't listen to any of it. The last thing they thought before sleep took them was that Amami was an interesting person, more so than most. At last, just maybe, they found someone who understood.

Today had been...

 


	7. stick around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kids these days.

A few days into July, Rantarou finally felt like he was getting a grip on his classmates for real. Which was a shame, since the summer holiday started in a little under two weeks, but better late than never.

At least he had Saihara and Kaede to rely on as his “normal” friends. Sitting in the cafeteria with those two and Kiibo, he barely even remembered that, oh yeah, the latter was a robot. Sure, the conversation could take a strange turn sometimes, with Saihara trying to solve murders while eating lasagne, Kaede finding a musical metaphor for everything, and Kiibo not always getting the punchline...but he'd had plenty of weird friends before, right? Even his family situation wasn't really normal. So it was fine.

He was mentally debating what “normal” even really _meant_ when three pairs of eyes glued themselves to him.

“Um, what's up?” he asked.

Kiibo made a throat clearing noise. It was impressively realistic. “Sorry to interrupt you, but we've just found out something...troubling. I might need your help, Amami-kun.” He pressed his fingertips together.

Kaede was more helpful. “He doesn't really _get_ music! We're trying to explain it, but it's harder than it sounds. I feel like, maybe we should go downtown later, to a record shop? If he hears a lot of different musical styles, I'm sure he'll find what speaks to him.”

“And...I thought we could just use the internet. Akamatsu-san's hypothesis is fine, but I don't see why we have to actually...you know, go there.” Saihara fanned himself with his hat, black hair pasted to his forehead with sweat. “This really isn't my kind of weather...”

“Mm, yeah, there's no way it's gonna happen today,” she admitted. Even she couldn't keep her usual pink sweater on. It wasn't just hot, it was super humid due to the constant rain. “Maybe you should cut my hair. Can't think of how else to cool down.” With that, the pianist lay her head on the table, sighing.

Rantarou envied Kiibo. He might have travelled all over the world and experienced all different climates, but muggy days like this were his least favourite of all. That one time he'd been stuck in a blizzard in northern Canada for a month ranked above this. It had sucked majorly, but you could always wear more layers. The robot, on the other hand, had built-in heating and cooling, and he didn't suffer from the temperature like a human did. _Lucky bastard._

He tried to respond. They'd wanted an answer, he was pretty sure. “I think...uh, save it for next week. Maybe August.” He raised his arms up before collapsing, doing his best to melt onto the table like Kaede had. “God, sorry, I don't think I can care right now.”

“Saaaame,” the other two humans echoed.

Kiibo glanced at his fallen friends with a frown. “I'll...have to ask Iruma-san for an external fan, won't I?”

 

 

That Sunday was several degrees cooler and totally rain free, so the group (plus Kokichi, somehow) made their way to the city's shopping hotspots. It wasn't long before Rantarou saw something that really caught his eye.

“Hey, Kaede-chan, Saihara-kun, check it.” He jabbed a thumb toward a store front which...was stylish, and hip, and eye-catching. Silver and gold, neon signs, fresh paint...ah, who was he kidding? It was gaudy as hell and he loved it.

He couldn't see much in the store's window, but what had captured the adventurer's heart was an accessory, a silver and purple brooch shaped like a sleeping cat, all curled up. Its face and paws were precious and cute, no mistakes in the casting. The price tag was fine, too, and he was going to buy this thing right now because it was cute cat-shaped jewellery and _he was down for that._

“Oh, that's actually nice,” Saihara half-whispered, “I didn't expect that from this kind of store.” He was inspecting it with the concentration you'd expect from a detective, trying to see it from every angle.

Kaede pressed her hands against the glass and squealed, “That's so cute! Aw, just look at its little paws! Are you gonna get it?”

Rantarou looked back over his shoulder, wondering if maybe Kokichi would chime in, but...nope, he was too busy literally pushing Kiibo's buttons. _At least they don't do anything. I hope._

“Yeah, definitely. I have enough purple shirts that it'll match. Unless you really want it?”

“Seriously? Um, wow, but it would look nice on you...”

“Akamatsu-san, your blond hair and the purple on this brooch are complimentary colours. It would be easy to modify it into a hairclip, too, if you preferred.” The detective's cheeks went a bit pink. “A-and it would be cute on you.” Kaede blushed too, and damn it, these two were being way too wholesome! He couldn't take back his offer even if he wanted to!

So Rantarou slipped into the store (as gaudy inside as it was outside), though not before hearing some outburst about “my darling Saihara-chan calling someone _else_ cute?!” and an exasperated robot yelling to watch out for cars.

In this way, the time passed too quickly. The record store closed before the teens could get to it, so they boarded the subway back to Hope's Peak. Kokichi slumped against Rantarou's shoulder, snoring. Saihara and Kaede giggled, remembering a speech some local politician had given in the park, with the girl doing an enthusiastic impression that made both of the awake boys giggle. Kiibo smiled gently as he sorted through his internal camera's latest snapshots. He printed out one that he said was his favourite, where he and Kokichi were in a party supply store, buried in confetti and banners. Even after being scolded and nearly booted out of the store, they both grinned from ear to ear.

 


	8. warmth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was all planned by Kami-sama!

Angie Yonaga really was a shining example of human beauty, and how it manifested itself through piety. Her faith in Kami-sama, how she claimed that He was the source of all good things in her life and motivated all her actions... It was a shame that most of her peers, outside of their own class, avoided her. She was an unstoppable positive force, and though she could be forceful, her intentions were generally good.

That didn't mean Korekiyo had to like it when she made a demand.

“Kami-sama may ask as much as he pleases. It's a non-negotiable matter.”

Angie pouted, pointing at their face with her brush. “But He can't do this piece if your face is covered up! Amaterasu's expression is really important for this composition, so Angie's asking nicely...”

And of course, Amami was there too, leaning against the door frame and being completely unhelpful. If anything, he looked amused.

“Okay, then at least let Angie paint the face I need on your-”

“You will not.” They stepped away swiftly, almost falling backward over a block of wood. The heat from their frustration prickled at their skin. She was stubborn and untidy, which Korekiyo thought was just lovely, but she absolutely _needed_ to back off and take “no” for an answer.

“Hold up a sec.”

Amami stepped between the two and placed a hand on the artist's right shoulder. “I just had an idea,” he said, “and I think, maybe, it'll solve both of your problems?”

They didn't like Amami's idea either.

“There is no possible way that some makeup can solve this issue,” they spoke in a hushed tone, as Angie wouldn't actually let her subject out of the workshop, so the other side of the room had to do.

“Why not?” The adventurer was sitting at a drafting table, not quite tipping over. “If it's the scars, then I can totally cover them. It'll take some time, yeah, but nobody will even know.” He stuck out his pinky finger, the nail painted silver. “Promise. Thousand needles and all that.”

“You can't be serious...” They couldn't quite look at Amami's face. He was too good at those convincing smiles. Still, something told the folklorist that it could work. Not that the thought of him swallowing needles was pleasant. “I reserve the right to back out of this if your work isn't satisfactory.”

 

 

Contrary to expectations, Angie had a subdued reaction to her model's awful face. She simply nodded once they removed the mask, as if she knew what it was like. That couldn't be the case, surely not.

Also contrary to expectations, having someone brush makeup onto your face was...it was relaxing, but they couldn't keep their eyes open for a different reason. They now had two people staring intently at their uncovered jaw, and Amami was much too close for comfort. They weren't embarrassed at all, no, it was just warm in the room. That the warmth was only on their face was the result of strange currents. The air conditioning was faulty. No other way to explain it.

“So, Shinguuji-kun? What do you say?”

“Ah, hmm, sure.”

“Oh, see that? Kami-sama is never wrong!”

Korekiyo cracked open one eye. Angie had her hands clasped together, with a large grin and what seemed to be an aura of joy. Amami's brows were raised, just about hidden by his fringe. “Yeah, uh, wow. That was a little too easy.”

They groaned. Hadn't meant to, but, “What _have_ I agreed to?”

“I _might_ just have told Yonaga-chan that you spent the night at my place, and I _might_ just have asked you whether we could go to yours over the holiday.”

“And you said yes! That means you have to swallow needles if you say no now.” The artist was drawing on her arms with a blue felt tip marker. Never mind the dozens of sketchbooks she used as a pseudo throne. “Kami-sama knows you don't have anything to do anyway, right?”

They shifted in their chair. It wouldn't work. It could never work. Not once had Nee-san invited guests, preferring to read or finish her projects. She had more projects than ever before, in fact.

Korekiyo did not mention that, however, because there was an even greater reason. “Nee-san's birthday is in August, and if I don't complete the articles I've been assigned to write, I will not have the funds for her present. So-”

“Oh really? How old is she going to be?” Amami resumed applying foundation over a particularly large bruise.

“Twenty-five. And as I was-”

“What about Korekiyo-kun?”

They stared at her. _Did she...? No, you must have misheard._

Angie capped her marker and looked Korekiyo in the eyes. “Your birthday. Angie doesn't know when it is, so how can she get you a present?”

“That's a good point,” said Amami. “When _is_ it, anyway?”

They wished they had a mirror because then, they would have something else to focus on and feel less obligated to answer. One did not appear from thin air. “The thirty-first of this month. Why do you ask?”

Angie gasped. “So soooon!” She abruptly jumped up from her seat. “Nyaha, that's perfect! We'll go to Korekiyo-kun's home on their birthday! We can order Kami-sama's favourite foods and...and!”

“And?”

“Hmm, not sure yet. Angie will think about it.” She headed toward the door. “Kami-sama can't paint when there's such a hard decision to make, so see you tomorrow! Goodbye-nara!”

 

 

“Well, I'm kinda mad that I used all that concealer for nothing...”

Korekiyo studied their face in the compact mirror. Even incomplete, Amami's handiwork succeeded in nearly erasing all trace of their injuries. An idiotic thought occurred to them – was there anyone else in the dorm? Somebody they could show. They wouldn't actually do it, but seeing themself like _this_ , with nothing wrong or ugly, was different. Foreign. Like it was someone else's reflection.

_Do you want praise for such a petty thing?_

_...Yes._

“I-it was not for nothing,” they concluded. “I honestly appreciate that you doing this. For _me_. Even if I was being childish about it.”

From Amami's dorm room, the two watched as their upperclassman, Tanaka, practised what appeared to be martial arts stances with his hamsters. That man had a truly incredible bond with his animals, as odd as it looked.

The adventurer fell back onto his bed with a thump. “It's not like I can blame you. Like, if I were you? I would've walked out of there.”

He busied himself by sliding his bracelets off his wrists, sitting up to place them in his bedside table's drawer. “So. Korekiyo-kun, huh?”

Korekiyo twitched and whipped their head around to stare at him. “What.”

“Angie-chan said it. You two got pretty close, and I didn't even notice...” Amami sighed, placing a hand on his cheek. “Stealing you away from me. Can't believe it.”

“I never agreed to let her call me that.”

“Yeah, I figured as much. But,” he lay back again, “why not? Aren't you guys friends?”

She was a painter and they were her model. It didn't go beyond that. They conversed, yes. And Angie had asked for help studying. And they did both bear with their cosplaying classmate when she asked the two to try on outfits she'd sewn. And they even had walked around campus together, once or twice.

…

Well...when they thought about it like that...

“I know not everyone has the same standard for friends and stuff. I've met people who don't call anyone a friend unless they've known each other for like twenty years.” The adventurer's gaze fell to his hands, and a crease formed between his eyebrows. With a forlorn tone, he asked, “Aren't we friends? I just kinda assumed we were, and-”

“Yes!” The folklorist hadn't meant to raise their voice, but they continued. “I enjoy your company very much, Amami-kun. Not just as a human - because all humans are worth my time - but as someone I can talk to. As someone who seems to enjoy being in my company, too. So, ah, yes. I think we could be defined as 'friends'.” The room's temperature had shot up. It made their arms prickle, but they ignored it, waiting for a reply.

Amami's face was blank, then broke into a wide, genuine grin. “Aw, wow! I...I don't know what to say, honestly.” His eyes seemed brighter than before, and it was impossible to look at him directly. “But same. I do like hanging out with you. So then...” He held out a hand. “You can call me Rantarou, and I'll call you Korekiyo-kun. How about that?”

Their pulse pounded in their ears, but they took his hand and shook it, wondering if their own smile was as gentle as his (and when had it gotten there?). “Of course. I'll see you tomorrow, Rantarou-kun.”

 


	9. cloud

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The scary part is that she knows what your newfangled slang means.

The days until the end of July dragged on, each day taking three times as long as they were supposed to. It wasn't like he was suffering – he'd aced his exams, found a frozen yoghurt shop with Kaede and Saihara, and even gotten roped into a food drive with Kokichi?? - but the power of anticipation was like magic. It didn't get better when the summer holiday actually started. Ruka-chan and Mika-chan were feuding over some missing toys, each accusing the other of being a thief, which led to Rantarou giving up and walking to Osaka for a couple of days.

But now, the wait was _over._ The train was just a few minutes from its destination. He had to admit it was nerve-wracking, not knowing what he'd see at Korekiyo's house or if their sister was nice or if they'd like the presents that he and Angie had picked. Did they have parents? He’d never heard them talk about other family members aside from their sister. He hoped he’d make a good impression on them.

If Angie felt any of the same jitters, then she did a really good job of hiding it. She was more interested in the cityscape outside, humming a song Rantarou recognised from a commercial but couldn't name. The heavy yellow raincoat she always had had been ditched in favour of an oversized white shirt with a neon green daisy pattern. It was pretty cute, even if it wasn't the adventurer's taste.

Maybe he'd gone overboard? Not in his clothes, but well, he had made very specially sure that all twelve of his ear piercings coordinated with his bracelets, which in turn matched his necklace, which went with his shoes. Meanwhile, Angie's long skirt was frayed and had a couple of holes in the bottom. Kind of a gap in effort given.

The echoing voice from the train intercom made him jump. _Oh well, nobody's gonna judge us that hard._ The two stepped out onto the platform, and it took no time at all to find a certain person who stood several centimetres over everyone else.

Angie literally skipped over and waved with great enthusiasm at Korekiyo, almost smacking a passing grandmother. “Helloooo Korekiyo-kun! Angie hopes that you had a good morning! Oh, and Rantarou-kun's here too.”

“Good morning. Uh, afternoon,” he weakly chuckled.

Korekiyo looked weird in casual wear. Their tailored uniform and hat had an official look to them, and the zippered mask added mystery. It reminded Rantarou of the anime he watched with Kokichi as kids, with a character who worked from the shadows and knew everything about anything. Seeing them in a plain dark sweater and a normal allergy mask had a totally opposite effect. Their pale eyes seemed...troubled. And kind of vulnerable? It was impossible to explain, but he had to do _something._

“It's pretty crowded in here... Let's get out of here so we can talk properly, okay?” With his arms, Rantarou guided his friends toward the exit. On his left shoulder was a backpack with the presents inside, both in plain boxes. A few extra gifts were in there too, but those were snacks Kokichi had thrown in. That guy was clueless when he had to be generous.

The small shopping district was packed like sardines, kids and teens out and about during the break. Maybe, on another day, Korekiyo would be leaning against one of the store fronts, taking notes on all the people. Hard to imagine that someone so quiet could deal with the noise, but well, anything for the beauty of mankind (or whatever).

“How far to get to your place, anyway?”

“Not long, but if you don't mind, we'll be taking a slight detour.” They rubbed at their eyes. Now that he was looking, their hair was obviously uncombed. “Sorry. I had a very lengthy report to submit last night.”

“Yeah? What about?”

“Little-known Chinese cuisine. Something along those lines. As if I haven't been asked about it dozens of times before,” they huffed.

Angie walked a little faster to match the other two's pace. “Ooh? You don't like Chinese food?” She leaned forward and spoke softly, “Angie didn't know you were a picky eater. Kami-sama is sometimes, so that's-”

“There are just,” they brushed their fringe out of their eyes, “other subjects I prefer.”

It went on like that, talks about Rantarou's upcoming trip to New Zealand, a portrait someone had commissioned Angie to create with bubblegum (“Uh, seriously?” “Yep! Don't ask. She's paying me well.”), and an investigation conducted by a magazine that Korekiyo had been invited to join. At some point, a small shore line became visible, and the trio waited on a bench nearby.

The sound of people hurrying around wasn't so loud, and the overcast sky combined with the sea was calming. So they waited like that for a while before Angie finally asked what was so important about the place.

“Nee-san's office is close to our home, and she takes this route on her way back.” Korekiyo folded their hands, probably trying to look casual. “You might prefer to meet her sooner rather than later.”

“Today's about _you,_ you know.”

“Alright then, I would like it if you met her before we do anything else.”

Rantarou shrugged. “That's fair.”

“Oh? Oooh?! Is that...?” The artist stood up suddenly.

Korekiyo followed suit, and their smile could be heard in their voice. “Mmhm, that is her.” They glanced at the adventurer, eyes wide with...anticipation? “Well, Rantarou-kun?”

 

 

If Rantarou hadn’t known better, he’d have sworn that the woman in front of him was Korekiyo’s twin.

She wasn’t quite as tall (though still level with Rantarou) and she had her hair in a ponytail, but the fact was that if he had seen this woman walking down the street, he’d have mistaken her for Korekiyo. They both had the same piercing stare and dark locks and thin build. Her nice jacket and black slacks were something that the folklorist would not be out of place in, either.

_I wonder where she got those from...?_

The woman smiled with amusement at the three of them. “So these are your lovely friends, Kiyo. I was worried they didn’t really exist.” She circled around Angie, with an intense gaze as she studied every detail of the artist. “You’re Yonaga Angie-chan?”

Angie didn’t look even a little bothered by the inspection. She just put her hands together like always and smiled. “That’s correct!” she exclaimed, “But Angie doesn’t know who you are. Isn’t it unfair that you know my name and I don’t know yours?”

“Oh, of course. Forgive me.” The woman stepped back from the group and bowed. “My name is Shinguuji Shinki. I work in software development, and I’m Kiyo’s older sister. Thanks for taking care of them at school.” She stood up straight again and stuffed her hands in her pants pockets. “Or something like that, right? I am _so_ done with being formal today. Hope you don’t mind.”

Korekiyo nodded and moved to stand beside their sister. “I hope they haven’t assigned you to another project again.” When she shrugged, they gently grasped her wrist. “Let’s return home then, Nee-san. I’ll prepare tea for everyone.”

All four of them began to walk away from the shore, but Rantarou wanted to make it clear: “Correction, you’re not making tea for anybody today. That’s our job.” And now that that was out of the way, he just had to introduce himself. Easy. “Oh yeah, by the way, I’m-”

“Amami Rantarou-kun. There’s no way I wouldn’t know who you are.” Shinki put a finger to her bright red lips, smirking like she had any real dirt on him. “Really though, Kiyo talks about you all the time! Rantarou-kun this, Rantarou-kun that, ‘listen to what Rantarou-kun did today’... I was getting a little sick of hearing about you and not actually seeing your face.”

“Nee-san, _please._ ”

“Oh, alright, you talk about Angie-chan a lot too. And, hm, Ouma-kun? I think you’ve mentioned that name a few times.”

“He couldn’t come today! He’s always sooo busy with his secret organisation. Even Kami-sama doesn’t know what’s so important, because birthdays are the most important days!”

“Even more than blood drive days, huh.”

“Yeah! By the way, Korekiyo-kun, Kami-sama won’t need your blood for a while.”

“Oh, I’m so relieved.”

“...Why does this ‘Kami-sama’ need Kiyo’s blood?”

 

 

The Shinguuji household was quaint.

It was sort of unfair of him. Rantarou spent his whole life in a mansion, and Kokichi’s totally secret headquarters didn’t disappoint either. He spent 90% of his life outdoors. But it still felt kinda cramped.

But then again, it had a lot of _stuff_ in it. Every surface except for the kitchen counter had trinkets galore, probably from Korekiyo’s travels, and old-looking books. The only books that might’ve been printed in the past fifty years were about programming languages and other computer subjects. Still, it wasn’t a messy place. Nothing like a stereo system or a television or plastic models or magazines, almost like a teenager didn’t live here. It wasn’t sterile or anything, but Rantarou would never live in a house like this.

A whistle to his right caught his attention. On a small table was a cage of cockatiels, which Angie planted herself in front of. Couldn’t blame her - they were really, really cute, with their little red spots and gold crests and teeny lil feet...

“No, you can’t have them. I need something to keep me company when I’m working from home. Oh, and shoes off.”

“R-right. Sorry, Shinki-san.” Geez, he’d forgotten something that simple. Even Angie remembered to take her sandals off before staring at birds! “So hey, do you want your presents now or later?”

“...You have something for me?” Korekiyo asked, looking like he’d said there was a unicorn on the doorstep. It took all Rantarou had not to laugh at how baffled they were. “Oh. Well, now? If I may.”

“Yepper!” Angie took the adventurer’s backpack and kneeled on the floor, removing all the snacks first. “These are from Kokichi-kun! Kami-sama says they’re all super tasty! He wants them, but since it’s Korekiyo-kun’s birthday, you get them all to yourself.”

Shinki was bemused as her sibling set all the candy bars and bags on the counter. “That’s, uh, generous of your god.”

“It is, Nee-san. Kami-sama can be a rather greedy god.”

“If being greedy makes people believe that Kami-sama is real, then He doesn’t mind being called that.” She pulled out a box the size of her hand and lifted it up. “This is Angie’s. Go on, open it!”

At Angie’s urging, Korekiyo opened the box with trepidation. Their eyes widened, and they tried to speak, but nothing came out.

“That’s from Angie’s own collection. It stores up bad luck if you hang it from your door, and then Kami-sama will take that bad luck and make it good! That one’s Kami-sama’s favourite, and He said you should have it because it’s really old. Angie thinks it was carved by her great-grandfather.”

Leaning over, Rantarou saw that it was a small figure on a cord, a pig-like beast made from red jasper. It was incredibly detailed, especially with the wrinkles in its skin. There was a little flower in its teeth and palm leaves covering its back.

The folklorist managed to whisper, but it was mostly to themself. “Something of such cultural significance...likely over a century old...a indication not only of the importance of this animal, but...” It was too hard to hear any more than that. Their hands were shaking pretty badly.

So of course, the obvious thing to do was to not give them a break. “Hey, Korekiyo-kun,” he spoke gently while reaching into the backpack, “this one’s from me.”

It was a book, of course, but not just any book. Like Angie’s gift, this was something of his that he’d loved in his childhood. He handed it over and explained what it was, still in that soft voice. “ _Death in the Long Grass._ The author was a famous safari hunter in Africa, and it’s not just about hunting, but his experiences with the people there too. It kinda...inspired me, so I thought you might like it, you know?”

Korekiyo stared at the figure and the book, then up at their friends, then back at the figure and book. “I-I... These are...” They clutched the objects to their chest. “For me?”

“Uh-huh!”

“That’s right.”

There was a little while where they stood completely motionless, and Rantarou hoped that he hadn’t gone wrong somehow. He sure as hell didn’t know what to do when they closed their eyes and hugged their presents tightly, all while their whole body trembled violently.

“Uh, Koreki-”

_“Ku...kukuku...”_

Oh, thank god, they were laughing.

Angie smiled, but her eyes screamed confusion. “So you like it, right?”

 

 

“-So it’s been about half an hour, and I have _no_ idea what’s taking so long. You can imagine, right, that I am _not_ happy. So I knock on the door one more time, and they tell me the same thing - that they need just one more minute-”

“And then? And then?!” Angie cried out, leaning as far forward as she could (and getting some tzatziki on her shirt, gross).

“I think, man, screw this! I open the door, and there’s Kiyo standing at the sink, with my lipstick in hand, and a huge smear of red all over their mouth like this!” Shinki made a circle around her lips with a finger. “And it’s in the sink and on the mirror, and they give me this little look and say, ‘this is how Nee-san does it’!”

Rantarou snorted. Angie was totally hysterical, pounding the table and with tears running down her cheeks. Korekiyo had their face in their hands, muttering, “I hate this,” and their ears were flushed bright red.

Probably the same colour as the lipstick. _Heh, better not say that aloud._

 

 

Before sunset, Korekiyo had passed out, and they all agreed that it was time to leave. As he and Angie slipped on their shoes, Rantarou felt like things couldn’t have much better. The presents had been accepted (and he hoped that Miu never saw the folklorist like that, never ever ever), and the food was good, and even with the awkward stories, everyone had a good time. And most importantly-

“Hey, you two...?”

They’d only just stepped out the door. Rantarou looked back and saw their sister standing on the front step, her brow creased. Maybe he’d forgotten something?

“Shinki-san?” Angie asked.

The woman took a couple of seconds to answer. Did she think she’d get ignored? “It’s just, well, thanks for being Kiyo’s friends. It’s been a really long time since they seemed really happy about...actually interacting with people.” She laughed, and Rantarou knew from experience that it wasn’t quite real. “It would be great if you stayed friends with them. Not, uh, trying to force you into anything...”

And, for the second time that day, Angie was unfazed by the atmosphere. “You don’t have to worry about that at all! Kami-sama says there’s no chance that Angie or Rantarou-kun will stop liking Korekiyo-kun.”

Shinki exhaled, and her smile was definitely real now. “Sorry, I guess I’m holding you guys up. It’s just, I’m not a very good friend myself, so you have to pick up the slack. You get home safely, alright?”

It wasn’t until he and Angie were on the train back to Hope’s Peak that he wondered what that was all about, and the implications weren’t too good.


	10. that pass will fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tsumiki speaks up.

Tsumiki Mikan knew she was a coward. People were scary, and if it were her choice, she would stay as far away as possible. Except that then, nobody would know she ever existed, and that frightened her more than anything.

Having people remember her was a small price to pay for all the times her head was shoved into a toilet, her clothes stolen, and even a classmate’s botched “tattoo gun practise”. Maybe she was only remembered as a punching bag, but that was just how her life had to be, wasn’t it?

That was then, before Hope’s Peak.

It wasn’t peaceful at all, always getting dragged into one of Hiyoko’s pranks or treating some weird diseases Nagito had, but it was different. Just looking at her calendar made Mikan smile, knowing that karaoke night or a gaming tournament or a study session was around the corner. It took one person to reach out, and suddenly she could be involved in things that were fun and not at her expense.

What didn’t make her smile was the infirmary door being kicked open by a blond girl with tall boots and a bad attitude. But she wouldn’t say it out loud.

Iruma was worse than Hiyoko, in Mikan’s opinion. She wasn’t a trickster, but made up for it with sheer maliciousness. She put down everyone for not being as smart or pretty as her, but expected respect and awe in return.

A narcissist!

The inventor shifted something on her shoulder. Something very thin with long limbs and seaweed-like hair. She strode up to Mikan’s desk, glaring and scowling and generally making the nurse wish she could hide or die, and then spoke in that loud, commanding voice.

“Hey, titty nurse. I can drop this virgin baggage off here, right? Yeah, cool, thanks.” She didn’t even wait for an answer before dumping the scrawny person on one of the beds. Like she was taking out some rubbish to be collected.

_She probably thinks of everyone like that..._

“U-um...wait. I’m s-s-sorry, I know this is a w-waste of your time...” Mikan pulled out a clipboard and stood, trying not to shake. It was easier than it used to be, just a little. “I-if you could tell m-me what happened to this person...if you know... O-or you c-can leave if you want!” she cowered, like a desert lizard hiding from the scorching sun that was Iruma’s gaze.

But surprisingly, her underclassman didn’t have any retort and just took a seat in front of the desk. “Okay, sure,” she said, crossing her legs, “It’s no big fuckin’ deal. I was just talking with Yumeno - you know, the donkey-lipped bitch in the magical girl getup...”

(Mikan did know her. She sometimes entertained the kids at the local hospital.)

“...And like, she’s okay, I guess. And I’m not just saying that because her lesbo bodyguard would kill me. God, you’d think the midget couldn’t even have a pee by herself...” Iruma rolled her eyes. “Ugh, whatever. So anyway, she wants me to design some rig for her next show, and Shitguuji’s doing that thing where they tail us and don’t hide it at all.”

That was...?

Oh _no_.

“Well, they kinda collapsed after only five minutes. ‘Cause ya know, virgins have no stamina.” She put a finger to her chin. “Actually, Shitguuji’s looked totally destroyed the past couple days. Guess I felt a little bad, since it’s not like I want any of the idiots here to die. Yeah, I’m awesome! Saving one life today, a hundred tomorrow! ‘Cause I’m a fuckin’ genius! Ha, what would any of you do without me...” She went on like that for a while, which was okay because that meant more time to write down her story.

But soon enough, Iruma got up and went for the doorway. “So I’m done here.”

“A-ah, yes! Thank you very much.” And as frightened as she was, Mikan did her best to smile genuinely.

“...Cool. Well. See ya later, Tsu-milky.” The blonde turned away and waved without looking back. Then it was quiet once again.

She...she had given the nurse a nickname!

Not a nice one. But progress.

 

 

Low blood pressure, but a high body temperature. Signs of fatigue and malnutrition. Somehow, body weight had dropped, and it was dangerously low in the first place. And nothing had managed to wake him either.

_That’s what stalkers get_ , a small, terrible part of Mikan thought.

She hadn’t known back then, when she and Shinguuji first met, about his strange behaviour. But rumours spread fast among teens, even more with the “ordinary” students. So, what Mikan had later learned was that the folklorist would follow anyone around, even teachers, and every little personal secret written in a notebook. There might have been illegal, scandalous pictures on his phone. Also something about a blood pact with the Ultimate Artist and a creepy obsession with his sister.

Rumours were terrible, and Mikan knew that. Hadn’t she been the victim enough to understand? It was all exaggerated and maybe even totally made up. Kids would take the littlest thing and tear you up with it. But Shinguuji was tall, intimidating, and really did stalk his classmates and teachers. So what could she believe?

...Maybe Nekomaru would be up for guard duty?

“Nn...h...hello...”

Mikan felt a little proud that she didn’t jump up or scream, but just jolted out of her thoughts. A look at the clock... Huh, three hours had passed.

She was nervous again, breathing and pulse quickened. Now she had to actually _talk_ to the boy.

Mikan had his trust, an agreement between doctor and patient. She considered herself pretty decent at reading people, and it was obvious that this boy didn’t easily talk. And then she’d ruined it all by trying to get to the source of his injuries.

“S-Shinguuji-kun... Um, sorry, you must b-be confused. Could you p-please...please, tell me your name and date of b-birth?”

His mask had been taken off so he could be examined, and now the nurse could see him dully open and close his mouth, before understanding the question. “Shin...guuji Ko-” cough, wheeze “Korekiyo...”

“And date of birth.”

“July... July...?” He looked around the room like he’d find the answer. “Is it...?”

_Unable to remember birthdate. Likely due to fatigue._ “Okay, you’re in the nurse’s office.” She straightened her back. “Your classmate, Iruma-san, found you passed out in the hall. Please, could you tell me when you last ate or slept?”

“...I...don’t know?”

“That’s really...” Mikan hastily made a note of that. “Shinguuji-kun, your constitution is weaker than average. Do you see this?” She pointed at the boy’s hand, which she’d inserted an IV line into. “You were seriously dehydrated, and the condition of your skin and hair make it obvious that you’re not eating correctly. This IV is giving you a solution of saline and vitamins. It may seem drastic, but it’s because you aren’t taking care of yourself...”

She didn’t expect a weak grin to spread across her patient’s face. “Oh...really. That’s okay.”

“Huh?”

“Ku... Even now...you’re wasting your time...on me. You could be doing anything...anything else. But instead...” A weak chuckle followed by another cough. “Humans are too nice.”

There was something horribly familiar about those words, a weight that sunk Mikan’s heart and chilled her. “W-well, it’s my job,” she mumbled. Maybe she could get out of this conversation with a simple answer.

“Your job, huh... You could make it easier...on yourself. Pretend I’m not here.”

“B-but I’m a nurse. That would be-”

“Aah, you could let me sleep...and hope I don’t wake up. That would be so easy, sooo easy...”

“I can’t do that!”

For the first time since waking up, Shinguuji was actually looking at the nurse, totally stunned. It gave her a feeling of power and guilt, but she let the former take over. She had to settle this!

“You’re right, I could do that, and maybe it would make everything easier for me, but I’m not a nurse because it’s easy. I want everyone to live happily and healthily, and it doesn’t matter if it’s difficult... But even more than that, I know I need to help you now. Maybe I don’t know you that well, maybe I’m being presumptuous, but,” she took a deep breath and sat on the bed’s edge, “I know how you feel.”

“I’ve thought all those things that you were saying. And um, well, I still do.” She laughed, soft and rueful. “But I don’t think it’s right to just give up. So I’ll take care of you no matter what. Even if you don’t like me, even if I don’t like you, because I don’t think anyone should ever feel like that.” Inhale. “Um...did that make any sense?”

There was a long period of silence. Shinguuji was biting his lip, eyes narrowed in thought, and that left Mikan sitting there and wringing the bottom of her apron for many uncomfortable minutes. But he did speak up.

“I...don’t know if it makes sense.”

“Oh, w-well, you’re tired. Sorry, sorry, I know it was a lot to take in and completely unasked for.”

Another pause in conversation.

“Do I need to stay here?”

“I think so, yes. You need to catch up on sleep m-more than anything. Should I c-call...?”

“I’ll do it.”

“...Right.” Better to avoid another disaster.

 

 

Two hours later, her shift was over. Mostly. In another four hours, she had an evening lesson at the hospital, but she at least could nap and have dinner. Once the head nurse came in and assured her that her patient was just fine, Mikan waltzed right out the door.

And smacked into someone’s metal-and-oil-scented body.

“O-oh, Kazuichi-kun.” She backed up and bowed slightly. “Were you waiting...for...”

Next to the mechanic, tall and haughty, was Iruma.

“...me?”

“You bet your ass we were, Tsu-milky. You’re coming with us.” Her hand was on the nurse’s arm like a vice, and then she was being dragged down the hall.

“Um, um! W-what are you gonna d-do with me?!” Mikan squeaked, barely able to descend the stairs without tripping.

“You have time, right? I know you do, Kazu-itchy says so. You’re gonna help us out with a few inventions, got it?”

“B-but I’m a nurse.”

“Fucking medical inventions, Sherlock! This idiot said we should ask you about it.” Iruma pointed her middle finger at the boy, who sighed.

“Ah, geez, that’s true, but...it started with Miu-chan, really.”

“You’re fucking tattling on me?!”

He slipped his fingers under his beanie and itched. “Yeah, she was like,” he went into a falsetto, “ _‘We need some sex appeal in here, Kazu-itchy! I’m hot stuff, but it just ain’t fuckin’ enough!’_ ” He faux-swooned. “So yeah, I kinda just mentioned you, and here we are. Sorry ‘bout that.”

“She’s gonna get the wrong idea, dipshit! Don’t act like you don’t want some eye candy!”

A sharp-toothed grin. “Uh, Miu-chan, I got a girl _and_ a guy in my life. And they are way way way too cuuute!” He laughed with a flushed face, clutching at his shirt in sheer glee.

This was a real turn of events... “S-so you don’t hate me, Iruma-san?”

Iruma loosened her grip on Mikan and stopped in her tracks. “Eh. You’re cute enough.”

“W-w-w-w-w-whaaaa...”

“Oh man, you made her cry.”

“How is that _my_ fault?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh it got sad again
> 
> also i never wanna look at this chapter again because i had to rewrite it from scratch three times ugh ugh ugh
> 
> there's probably spelling/grammar errors in here


	11. blood ritual (kind of)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Rantarou is sold out to Kami-sama by his friends.

Today was a pretty good day, Rantarou thought. He’d recently gone on a whirlwind tour of China, passing through every city he could in a month, eating any local delicacy he could find, and generally letting himself be swept away by the hustle and bustle of life. It was what he loved most, aside from his family. Kind of a shame that nobody else wanted to leave home as much, or for as long.

Back at Hope’s Peak, nothing had changed very much. Well, one of his upperclassmen had beaten a world record in a video game (what kind of record, he didn’t know), and Kokichi bragged to the whole class that he’d just bought Russia.

“What...part of Russia did you buy?” Saihara asked tentatively. “Did you bribe the government, or...?”

“No, Shuu-chan, I bought all of it!”

“So you have financial control over the cities?”

“No, dummy! All of Russia is mine! The whole country! _All! Of! It!_ ” He laughed in that maniacal way that creeped Rantarou out when they were kids. Now, it was funny how little it suited his small figure. Not to mention, he’d walked in on Kokichi practising it once or twice.

(Anyway, the whole thing was totally a lie. The supreme leader texted his friends about any real accomplishments, with lines of exclamation marks. Saihara once joked that if people ate punctuation, then Kokichi’s texts could feed a village for weeks.)

It was nice, having a stable place to come back to. As stable as his huge family and Hope’s Peak could be. He’d finished catching up with most of his classmates, and there were just _those two_ left.

He opened the double door to the art room and immediately regretted it.

As usual, Angie and Korekiyo were there. What wasn’t usual was that they were both crouched around the edge of a super-elaborate magic circle...made of pastel sticks? In the centre of it were coins and trinkets that the adventurer couldn’t really see from the hallway. Also the room was kind of dark, even though there were at least three dozen candles lit around the room. His friends were whispering something about spilling blood on the coins, too.

_...What the hell._

“It is done!”

Rantarou flinched as the artist sprang up, whooping and cheering. She rushed at him, grabbing his arms and pulling him into the art room. “Ta-daaa! This is another one of Kami-sama’s miracles!”

“It’s as you say. Kami-sama’s powers are wonderful.” Korekiyo got up and carefully stepped around the magic circle. “Kukuku... You seem surprised, Rantarou-kun. Yonaga-san and I-”

“Angie!”

“Yes, Angie-san” (the girl shrugged) “and I were conducting a small experiment. It’s a minor summoning ritual that draws one to the circle, rather than forcing you to appear in the centre. A success, I think,” they added with a happy sigh, raising a hand to their cheek.

“Um, sure, definitely. Can I turn the lights on?”

“Yup! We’re all done here.”

The brightness made Rantarou’s eyes sting, but it also let him get a closer look at his friends. Angie had gone home over the break, and her skin had a few reddish patches from the sun. Her hands and clothes were dusted with colours from the pastels, her shoes pretty much a rainbow of layers of caked-on paint. There was an oddly...tired feeling coming from her. Her smile wasn’t as bright as it should’ve been.

Hell, they both looked like they’d been through the wringer. What happened while he was gone?

“Hey, Angie-chan, you-”

“Of course, I should make tea for this occasion. Darjeeling with two cubes, right?”

“Oh, uh, thanks Korekiyo-kun, but I-”

Angie literally pushed the adventurer onto a chair. _What gives her that kind of strength?_ “Angie hopes you weren’t gonna leave soon ‘cause Kami-sama says today’s your turn to be His muse!”

“Okay, look... You two are weirding me out a little. Can I get my bearings or what?” He shifted in the chair, keeping his hands on the sides of the seat. The artist was overwhelming by herself, and combined with Korekiyo’s brand of enthusiasm...

For a moment, Rantarou thought that the two ignored him, since they kept doing what they were doing. It did get totally quiet, at least. but then that just made the atmosphere awkward.

It was Angie who spoke up first. “We were really excited to see you again. Korekiyo and Angie got bored and thought we could make you want to come here!”

He couldn’t help raising an eyebrow. “No honourifics at all now?” he teased. “Both of you got stolen from me. What _am_ I going to do...”

Rantarou hoped that at least one of them would fall for it, but then Korekiyo hummed in affirmation. “You can never be prepared for the whirlwind romance of summer. You must have heard the saying, ‘When the cat is away, the mice will play’. I’m afraid that your prey have eloped and left you all alone, Rantarou-kun.”

“Ooh, is Rantarou a cat? He’s an ocelot! So says Kami-sama!”

“I thought more of a lynx.”

“We could ask Ryouma-kun, but uh, why am I a cat now? Can’t I be a dog?”

“Hmm...”

“No no! It’s gotta be a cat!”

 

 

“So anyway, why were you guys trying to call me here?”

At least Angie didn’t want him to do anything odd as she started on a wax sculpture of the adventurer. So long as he stayed in his seat and sipped tea, he could relax.

“Well, Kami-sama had a great idea and Korekiyo thinks it’s a great idea too. We’re all gonna go somewhere!” Her tongue poked out as she carefully carved out the shape of an ear.

“Somewhere. Right.”

The folklorist had decided to clean up the pastels, colouring their hand bandages like a bad tie-dye shirt. When Angie didn’t elaborate, they spoke up. “We haven’t quite decided on where to go, but we were thinking perhaps Los Angeles, or New York, or well...any one of many American cities.” Rantarou’s eyebrows shot up, making Korekiyo chuckle. “Of course, whatever we choose, it’s already been cleared with the school board. Angie-san’s reason will be ‘artistic inspiration’, and I am ‘studying the history of the area’. And you, of course, are simply ‘being adventurous’.”

Rantarou raised the cup to his lips, but the hot tea didn’t help him think at all. _What brought this on? Angie doesn’t travel much, and Korekiyo never goes in a group... There’s gotta be some kind of motive. Or maybe it’s a prank, but they’re not people who do that. I think. And most importantly..._

“Do either of you speak English?”

Silence.

“You don’t, do you.”

His friends glanced at each other.

“Angie knows a tiny bit! Mostly from tourists and the internet!”

“Well, of course I...I can read English. But my speaking ability is poor, I’ll admit.”

“Once, someone on Twitter said Angie copied a manga artist! So Kami-sama told them ‘suck a dick’ in English! Angie’s agent got really mad about it.”

“I am currently studying Russian, after all. It’s only natural that I do not have time to improve my diction.”

Listening to these two make excuses. Angie coming up with wilder and wilder stories about her using inappropriate phrases as proof that she spoke the language. Korekiyo mumbling about how they had other things to do and were really too busy. Really, it was just so...so...

Rantarou laughed. His tea sloshed onto the floor, and some teacher had to ask if everything was okay, but seriously!

“You guys are _dumb_.”

Korekiyo tilted their head, brow creased. “You dislike the idea?”

“No, it’s great! But seriously, come on, you would be _so_ lost. You were just thinking about places to go and didn’t even think about how you’d communicate, right? You guys...” He shook his head, unable to wipe the grin off his face. “I love you guys, but what would you do without me?”

“Nyahaha, we’d totally die!” The knife swiftly sliced a mouth into the wax figure.

 

 

(Rantarou was being a hypocrite, of course. He only knew five or six languages. But details.)

 

 

Angie’s room was a complete mess. The drawers were overflowing with old paints, sketchbooks, pastels and charcoals, paint thinner, and things that Rantarou couldn’t identify. Every surface, from the floor to the ceiling (and even outside the window, if he’d looked) had stains on them. And it smelled like chemicals. No way it was healthy to live in here.

But she was the only one of the three with an HD television, with a nice stereo system too. So her room was now where they were going to hang out.

Angie lay stomach-down on her bed, feet in the air and stuffing her face with konpeito. “We could go to Hawaii,” she said, pointing the remote at the screen. She’d switched it onto the travel channel, because maybe they could get some ideas from there. “But Angie’s home is a lot like that, so it wouldn’t be a good vacation.”

Korekiyo was also lying on the bed, but on their back, looking at the screen upside-down. “The bright sun there would not agree with me. Not to mention, I can’t swim.” They drummed their fingers on their chest. “But still, it’s a place I haven’t been before. The people there are surely...”

“You live by the ocean and can’t swim?” Rantarou had to sit on Angie’s desk, which was ironically the only part of the room that was clean.

“The view is beautiful, but getting in the water itself... I dislike it.”

“That’s fair.”

Angie hummed in thought. “Angie can’t swim very well either.” She changed the channel, and a much less tropical location appeared. “Woah, Canada. Kami-sama says he wants to go there one day.”

“It’s cooler and isn’t as sunny. Plus, the food’s great and the people are nice.”

“I have been to Montreal once, but it was only for work, so I was unable to sightsee.”

Rantarou gaped at them. “Don’t tell me, you didn’t go to the Biodome?!”

“Well. That is true.” Korekiyo itched the back of one hand. “I hear it’s a fascinating place, but it wasn’t the subject of-”

_Thud_. That was the adventurer leaning back, head hitting the wall. “You...you poor thing.”

“What’s a Biodome?”

“It has animals! It’s like a replica of a bunch of ecosystems...and it has animals!”

“Ooh, Kami-sama loves animals. Let’s go there!”

“I’m sure it is interesting,” the folklorist mused. Angie sat up, placing the candy bowl in her lap. “But you know that humans are the focus of my work. And while animals are.. Wait, what are you-?”

The artist unzipped Korekiyo’s mask and tried to shove a handful of konpeito into their mouth. “Nyahahaha, Kami-sama says He wants animals, and you can’t stop Him!”

“Urrgh...why...”

Rantarou pulled out his phone. First to take a picture of his friends, then to check ticket prices (and more importantly, if it was cheap enough for the school to cover it).


	12. verstehen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which absolutely everything is fine and nobody gets hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a special chapter featuring anxiety and unpleasant conversations, yowza

 

As far as Korekiyo’s experience went, the aeroplane ride had been thoroughly average. They’d managed to sleep through most of it. Which was remarkable, given that Angie and Rantarou spent the entire time discussing where they would all go, and they were both very loud and enthusiastic.

At any rate, standing in the airport with hundreds of people passing by was giving the folklorist a headache. It had nothing to do with the crowd, of course not. And certainly wasn’t because of the noise. They spent every day at school surrounding themself with the hustle of other people’s lives, so the idea that this was the source of their problems was ridiculous. It was just, there were _so_ many people, and they couldn’t navigate as well when all the directions were in their third language (or one they weren’t familiar with at all), and trying to speak had proven to be near impossible. Which was due to not practising enough, not nervousness. And anyway, they loved humans, so-

“Hey, there’s luggage pickup.” Rantarou, who currently had Angie hanging on him like a backpack, seemed in much higher spirits. “Let’s jet.”

“Are we in a particular hurry?”

“Uh, I’d like to get out of here before you die from sensory overload. And you ate nothing on the plane, so we should do that.” He smirked, but was that worry in his voice?

Korekiyo rolled their eyes but started walking. “I’m not suffering from any overload, nor would I die from it.” Their ears were ringing from the flight, and it was genuinely difficult to concentrate with all these corridors and signs. “...I would like to eat, though.”

 

Angie shovelled five chips into her mouth. She was on her second plate and still devoured her food with the gusto of a hyena pack. “Dis ish da best! Angie’ll make dis da offishal food at home.” At least they’d gotten to the hotel, so no one else would see this mess. How a small girl like her could eat so much though, that was an interesting thing to think about.

“Poutine’s pretty great, right?” Rantarou had the decency to talk without his mouth full. “I found a couple of restaurants we could try out... Don’t wanna do it too much, though, ‘cause it’s expensive and I know how packed these places get.”

Ah, right. What he really meant was that he thought Korekiyo couldn’t deal with crowds. They chewed on a chip and thought. “I do want to try as much as I can. For research.” Who knew when this chance would return?

“And hey, if anyone gives you guys crap, I’ll punch ‘em.” He nodded at Angie. “Especially you, since you haven’t travelled all that much. I don’t want either of you to be uncomfortable.”

The two flinched as Angie smacked her palms on the table. “Kami-sama says no violence on this school trip!”

Rantarou scratched his cheek sheepishly. “I wasn’t really...going to beat anyone up...haha.”

“Good! Don’t worry, Angie has a much better idea.” She leaned forward and her voice dropped lower. “If anyone is mean to us, she’ll take their picture and badmouth them on social media! And if I ask Tsumugi or Kokichi to help, that person is never gonna live it down. They’ll be a disgrace to society forever. And then Kami-sama will curse their family for sixty generations.”

Neither of them could muster up a response to that. Angie sat back up and clasped her hands together. “Nyaha~ that was a joke.”

They felt a shiver run up their spine. For all her cheer and harmless facade... “Angie-san, you are one of the most frightening humans I’ve ever met. Do you know that?”

She smiled and ate another chip.

 

A pane of glass. That was all that separated the folklorist from their goal. That was all that stood between them and eternal happiness. Something nearly invisible but disappointingly tangible. How long? How long did they have to wait? Why was it, every time the goodness of the world was near, it lay just out of their reach, taunting them? What use was “sensibility” when it never led to joy?

“Korekiyo-kun.”

That’s right. Sensibility. To break down this wall and reach their heart’s desire required the abandonment of sense. Why untie the Gordian Knot when all one needed was a blade? And how easy it would be to slice this knot and claim the prize beyond it!

“Hey, earth to Korekiyo-kun.”

Rules were put into place by humans. Rules could be broken by humans. Nothing bound them but duty and fear.

“God...okay. Angie-chan, help me out.”

Right and wrong were just someone else’s standards, not theirs.

“KO.RE.KI.YO!!”

Korekiyo let out a high-pitched yelp as the artist shoved them to the side, and it took every bit of effort to not topple over.

“Wha...what was that for?”

Rantarou sighed deeply, and it was impossible to tell whether it was more exasperated or fond. “Uh, dude, you’ve been grinding against that antique shop window for ten minutes.”

“G-grinding? Don’t be ridiculous.” They could feel their pulse in their throat, and the window had marks from where their sweaty hands had been, despite the bandages.

“Nope, he’s not lying. You were like Miu when she gets insulted. All like...” Angie imitated the inventor’s heavy breathing and panting, which was quite disturbing, to say the least. “Goooood thing it’s night and nobody is here!”

This was...mortifying. Korekiyo’s face felt hot as they hissed, “Do not speak of this.”

“This is your way of pouting because it’s closed, isn’t it.”

“No! I never pout. How...how childish that would be...”

 

“Here we are, Montmorency Falls!”

There was no denying it. This waterfall, which fed into the Saint Lawrence River, was gorgeous. When they were here on business, Korekiyo hadn’t been able to do any sightseeing of their own and regretted it. Now, watching the mist rise from where fall met river and surrounded by greenery, they only felt calm.

“It’s beautiful,” Angie murmured. Even she could not resist the magnificence of this view, her mouth agape and blue eyes wide.

Rantarou nodded vigorously, unable to keep the excitement contained. “This path goes all the way up this side of the waterfall, across that bridge,” he pointed to the narrow walkway in front of them, leading his finger up to said bridge, “and then it goes back down those long stairs on the other side. The mist makes the whole walk pretty slippery, so be careful, okay?” He looked back at his friends and frowned. “I told you guys to dress for wet weather today. You forget?”

Angie, in a white-and-red “OPPAI” t-shirt (and jeans, unusually) shrugged. “Isn’t this okay?”

Korekiyo, in their most comfortable sweater and a ribbon keeping their hair neat, failed to see the issue. “The forecast is clear, Rantarou-kun. Though it may be a little warm, I’ll survive.”

Rantarou had on a thin, light blue raincoat. A designer brand of some sort. “Don’t complain when you’re both totally soaked and miserable the way back to the hotel, then.”

The trio walked up the path, enjoying the cool air and making jokes about the disgusting moss that grew along the rocky walls on the right of the path. Of course, it was morning in mid-September and expected not to be too warm. Japan had been experiencing a slight heat wave though, so it was refreshing.

It was when they reached the bridge that Korekiyo found themself stopping. Well, Rantarou and Angie did too, so it wouldn’t raise questions.

They needed time. With Angie, they’d made the decision to travel some place, and it was mostly for fun, yes. The two of them desperately needed stress relief. But also, there was a very important reason.

_“But I don’t think it’s right to just give up.”_

Tsumiki was right. They’d given up without really trying. So they were going to try, and there was a chance that maybe, just maybe it would change. If it could change, then...

Hands clenched, they breathed in deep and tried to convince themself that they didn’t feel anything at all. Calmness. No, beyond that, they needed to empty their heart and mind. That phenomenon known as “zen”.

“Korekiyo, hey!”

The artist pulled them and Rantarou over to one side, holding her phone out as far as she could. “Aw, you guys are too tall to fit in...”

“I’ll do it.” Rantarou took hold of her phone, the screen showing the three of them as well as it could with the vast height differences. Angie struck a pose from a _sentai_ show. “You ready, Korekiyo-kun?”

“Yes.” They made a peace sign and smiled, even if it couldn’t be seen.

...

And the green-haired boy had been right. On the other side of the waterfall, the stairs that lead down were constantly bathed in mist, making the descent not only unstable but slowly chilling them as the moisture seeped through their sweater.

At the very bottom was a concrete walkway leading from the falls, and a large platform where water sprayed up and onto anyone standing there. Angie almost literally leapt down and rushed to the platform, yelling happily as a cloud of water vapour hit her. Rantarou clearly wanted to join her - there was a strange and eager look in his eyes - but he stayed back for a moment.

“So don’t you like water at all?”

“I never said that. I just can’t swim.”

Yeah, but...” He licked his lips, stalling, thinking. “You were kinda tense up there. Unless it’s heights you don’t like?”

How nosy. “I was fine on the plane.”

“Acrophobia and aerophobia are different things, aren’t they?”

“Oh. True. But still, that isn’t the case.” It was hard to lie to someone whose best friend was a liar by profession. “I think that breakfast might not have agreed with me. But I’m quite alright now.”

Looking unconvinced, Rantarou shrugged, then dashed over to Angie, the two stomping in puddles and splashing anyone nearby.

Korekiyo watched them. They itched to join in the fun, but no, it was important to observe people sometimes. And that was enjoyable too. They likely would have remained there, a safe distance from the excitement, had Angie not dashed over suddenly, in their face.

“This is waaayyy better than a pool! Kami-sama says you need t’join us!” She was smiling, but also fidgeting, shifting her weight from one leg to the other. “And Angie wants you to, too.”

...Ah, they were on holiday, weren’t they? And no human alive could possibly say no to her, so they chuckled and pulled off their sweater. “Kukuku... What an excellent idea.”

 

The quiet hustle of the streets was much better than the airport.

It was more to Korekiyo’s taste, definitely. There were no roads for cars in this place, nor enough space for one anyway. Nearly every door led to a shop, yet it wasn’t particularly noisy or crowded. And who designed this style of building, anyway, where they were all connected into a wall-like mass? Canada was a large country, with the vast majority of it uninhabited. So it wasn’t a question of space...

Their train of thought was derailed by a shoulder nudge. “Hey now, _that_ antique place is open,” Rantarou commented, obviously suppressing a laugh. “Might be better to go inside this one instead of sweating on their window?”

“Forget that ever happened,” Korekiyo muttered and crossed their arms. He had to bring that up, didn’t he? “Wipe it from your mind.”

“No no, it’s too late for that.” The artist prodded her forehead with her right hand. “Kami-sama’s memory is flawless.”

“Ah, is that so? ...Well, yours certainly isn’t.”

“Gasp!” She reeled back and pretended to swoon. “Korekiyo is soooo rude. The most evil of all evils. How can Angie ever survive? Her lover’s cruel words, a betrayal witnessed only by the god she serves...”

Rantarou put a hand on her shoulder. “You weren’t kidding about the eloping, huh. Don’t like, have a lover’s spat in the road or nothing.”

Angie put her arms down and shrugged. “Actually, Angie thinks a scene like that would make a good painting. Or maybe charcoals. But He isn’t interested in romantic works right now, so Angie will write it down for later.”

Come to think of it, that was pretty rude. A playful insult, but not one you’d say casually.

Not that they’d never talked back...but wasn’t this whole conversation completely inane? Interesting to listen to, but not one they’d ever participate in. It was just a girl pretending that someone she loved (but didn’t actually love) had ruined her life. It wasn’t a conversation that Korekiyo ever could’ve had before. They never enjoyed this sort of closeness before. Nobody ever wanted to speak with them anyway.

_After all, you’ve never had any friends._

...They knew that. But the thought stung.

There wasn’t a chance to puzzle out their feelings. “Ohh, over there! That’s what Angie wants!” She pointed to a small, old-looking candy shop. “Hey, hey, let’s go!” Dragging along the other two by their sleeves, she blundered through the door with a loud cheer and totally frightened everyone inside.

They’d found a bench after exiting the side street. The weather was still pleasant, warm and somewhat cloudy. Holding up a paper bag of sweets, Angie proclaimed that the taffy she’d bought had to be enjoyed right then and there.

“We should come here again in the winter. They make candy out of snow, you know?” Rantarou unwrapped a blueberry-maple chocolate. “By pouring maple syrup on it and gathering it up. Could go to a sugar shack too, but the atmosphere’s a little...loud. Oh, and the Ice Hotel. Actually, I’ve never seen that, so maybe January’s the best time?”

Drinking a soda while showing as little of their face as possible wasn’t convenient, but speaking wasn’t necessary. “Ultimate Small Talker” would have suited Rantarou well. No, “Ultimate Conversationalist” sounded better. But those only focused on his ability to talk, when the way the listener felt was important too. So then, considering the impact he usually had on the folklorist, then it would be more fitting to say...

“Ultimate Comforting Presence?”

“Whaffup?” Angie turned her head, mouth stuffed with taffy. Rantarou paused, which meant he’d heard it too.

“I...I didn’t say anything.”

Again with the doubtful looks. “Really? Because I’d know your voice anywhere.” Rantarou leaned forward, smirking.

A chill. Definitely a chill and not heat. That was...not something they wanted to think about. “It wasn’t important.”

“Oh! That’s right!”

Both Korekiyo and Rantarou got smacked in the face as the artist’s arms shot up. She either didn’t notice or didn’t care and kept speaking. “Kami-sama says there’s something super duper important to tell you two! Not now, but later, later!” Angie nodded vigorously. “It’s a matter of life and death,” she said in a grave tone, but with sparkling eyes.

“If it’s that big a deal, then... Should I even ask why you can’t say it now?” The adventurer scratched the back of his neck. “No? Okay then.”

“Well, it’s not really life and death. Angie just wanted to say that, nya-ha~”

Hm. Right. There was so much that needed to be said, but they hadn’t expected Angie to bring it up, out of all people. It was likely better this way, but now there was a definite deadline.

They weren’t nervous. Empty heart and mind. Itching. Zen.

Nervous nervous nervous _zen_.

 

They locked the door. It wouldn’t stop anyone from overhearing if anyone (Angie) spoke too loud, but logic wasn’t winning today. Logic had been in a death match with anxiety since midday and was in a broken heap on the floor, breathing its last.

_You don’t have to do this. You don’t need to tell them anything. You’ll be laughed at._

But friends were people they could hypothetically confide in, yes?

_He said some don’t call anyone a friend without knowing them for decades. You should try that._

But Korekiyo hadn’t known anyone for that long, except for Nee-san.

_Exactly._

They groaned. This circular thinking wasn’t getting anywhere!

“You okay?” asked Rantarou, with more concern than they’d ever heard from him before. “Seriously, you’ve been looking trashed ever since I got back from China. You _and_ Angie-chan.” He gave a sigh, sinking down into his bed. “I worry about you guys sometimes.”

“My apologies, then,” they responded. It was automatic and didn’t sound at all sincere.

It was just as well that Angie walked out of the bathroom then, drying her hands on her jeans without a bit of shame. “Hey! You can’t start talking about serious stuff until Kami-sama says it’s okay.” With that, she seated herself at the table, opposite Korekiyo. “Umm, Angie doesn’t know where to start though.”

A full minute passed. Korekiyo wasn’t going to speak first. They couldn’t. They needed to think. It all had to be phrased in a way that made sense, without over-explaining and therefore boring the listeners, but also with enough detail that they didn’t look like a fool making the situation seem worse than it really was. Or perhaps it was better to excise as much as possible to save time, because Rantarou was just on holiday, and it was a flawed idea from the start, and if they considered these people to be their friends then maybe it was better to just not waste anyone’s time at all?

“I...don’t really know what this is about but,” Rantarou adjusted himself, lying back comfortably, “might as well just say what comes to mind? Usually works for me.”

The artist was tapping her fingers on the polished wood. “Yep, that’s true! That’s very true. Just say it like it is. Uh-huh.”

Buying time. It was a change in her behaviour, one that Korekiyo never imagined. Angie Yonaga, at a loss for what to say? A girl who never hesitated, who excelled at diverting a topic and could speak at lengths about her god.

“Well, okay. The truth is,” she finally began, face utterly neutral, “Angie’s people don’t accept her so much.”

...What?

“Uh, what?” Rantarou’s eyes widened. “Can you, like-”

“It’s kinda weird, Angie thought, ‘cause everyone acted like they were happy for Angie to go to school. But that musta been a lie, now they’re saying maybe I don’t represent Kami-sama like I should.”

“How could _anyone_ think that?” Korekiyo blurted out. _She’s getting to that, idiot!_

She gazed downward and kicked at the carpeting. “Well, it’s no surprise. There’s always been a couple people who don’t like me. Angie banned a lot of stuff, like animal sacrifice, and that’s why we do  blood drives now. Some folks got really mad about it, and they’re the ones saying bad things about me now.” Wryly, “Angie can deal with it.”

“You shouldn’t have to, though,“ Rantarou huffed. “I mean, I’m not like...an expert on your religion, but why do they have to give you shit? Doesn’t stuff like ‘not killing for your god’ make life better?”

“Um, it’s like, changing our traditions is just a really bad thing...maybe? And I haven’t spread our faith like I’m supposed to? And then Angie told everyone about her new friends, and that was no good ‘cause only Himiko and Gonta even kinda believe.”

Of course. She’d mentioned it many times that her people were not so accepting of outsiders. When they first heard of this, Korekiyo thought nothing of it. It was a trait shared across many cultures, even now. Nothing to be surprised about. Just another wondrous, ugly, shining part of humanity.

And frustrating! So very frustrating.

“So yeah, it’s like...it’s like, I haven’t been doing His work, and the outside world ruined my faith? But that’s only what a few people think!” She looked back up, her eyes darting from Rantarou to Korekiyo and back again. “Yeah, yeah, lots of folks are still proud of me, and my parents think I’m doing great. So Angie is okay!” The light-haired girl sniffled, but kept up her bright facade so well.

It didn’t sound great at all. Quietly, the folklorist asked, “Are you...truly alright?”

“Yeah, seriously.” Rantarou shifted forward until his legs hung over the foot of the bed. “That sounds like a lot to deal with. You’re going to have to go home again at Christmas, right? What’ll happen then?”

“I’m fine! I know it’ll all work out. It’s just...” Her eyes fixed themselves on Korekiyo. “Um, it’s your turn.”

“Eh?”

The adventurer hadn’t been prepared for this at all, had he?

“...You too?”

_You can still back out of this._

“Well. Not really, no.”

_Redirect the pity onto someone who deserves it._

“Compared to Angie-san, it’s quite minor.” Making eye contact was difficult.

But Amami Rantarou wasn’t a person who gave up once he was interested. “Actually, I knew you had...something covered up. Not that I want to like, force the issue or anything, but-”

“That’s not fair. You and Angie made a _promise_.”

She was irritated and had every right to be. These two might as well have been basilisks because the sheer weight of their gazes could have killed.

“I did. That’s true.” Their mouth was dry. “Well, really, it’s a minor family matter. Very boring. Nothing to complain about.”

Silence.

They hadn’t made a promise for nothing. Not only to Angie, but to themself, and to Rantarou by extension.

“I...I don’t know what to say,” they admitted. “It’s a problem that I...no, sorry, a _situation_ I was born into. But then it’s all become so much worse recently, and I think it has potential to continue. Getting worse, I mean.”

“If you say family, that’s gotta mean...” Angie tilted her head to the right. “Is it your sister?”

“...”

“Yeah, I was...a little worried about that. Uh, not that I’m-”

“Oh. So that’s where this is going.”

Amazing, wasn’t it. Like clockwork. They spent all day either content or worrying, but stopped _feeling_ in less than ten seconds.

“Woah! Woah, hey, lemmie explain. I know it sounds bad.” Rantarou put his hands up in surrender. “What I mean is, she actually told us herself that she...uh, doesn’t think she’s a good sister. Er, friend! That’s what it was. Pretty sure.”

Korekiyo chewed on their lower lip. Those negative thoughts were right. This was exactly what they didn’t want and yet the only conclusion possible. How many times had this happened before? How many times would it continue to happen until they learnt their damn lesson? “What _are_ you saying, I wonder? Why, it sounded as if you were accusing Nee-san of ruining my life and being a terrible person.”

“Wha... Hang on!” Angie piped up. “That’s not what Angie meant. Sorry, Angie knows she said something dumb, and she’s sure-”

“It never ends. It’s always her fault, somehow or another. Why can’t you people say anything else? Are you so lacking in imagination?” They narrowed their eyes, inhaling sharply. _Traitors. All of them, traitors._

A tiny part of them, barely distinguishable from all the paranoia, offered the idea that these two didn’t know, and what they said made sense given the info given.

But no! Everyone did this. Always always always. People would do anything to convict Nee-san, to make her into an awful, hated figure. Tsumiki. The middle school nurse. That English teacher. A classmate from fifth year. A secret admirer. The school counsellor. A convenience store clerk. Everyone, everyone thought the worst from her when she was nothing but the best. What would it take for Korekiyo to stop trying to interact with people?

“I wonder if you ever think before opening your mouth. Do you ever consider, for even a second, that you’re wrong, that your ideas of who she is might be wrong? Doesn’t it ever strike you as strange?” They were shaking? Yes, shaking. “No, of course not. You don’t have the mental capacity to understand what a fool you are.”

The light-haired girl sat there. Just sat there, as lost-looking as if it was her family that had been insulted. “U-um, Angie is really sorry though. I didn’t wait for you to explain!”

“Oh, now you ask? After making your bias clear and slandering her, you want an explanation?” Standing up, palms against the table to stop the shaking. “There’s no point. There’s absolutely no point. You’ll believe what you want because you’re _stupid_. Nothing I say or do can help her. Because, because all of you...you just want her to suffer...isn’t that it?!”

Her weaknesses, her flaws, and failures. Korekiyo knew it all. They knew the little things that could chip at the girl’s armour, those tiny hints that had weaselled their way into daily conversation. But.

Someone was pulling them back, and the folklorist realised suddenly that they’d gotten...too close. Too personal. Maybe 50cm from Angie’s face at best.

“Korekiyo-kun.”

This. Right, he was here. And he’d just seen all of that.

And Angie was...was she alright? Crying? No. Maybe. Was she?

Oh.

They stepped away with a deep, shuddering breath. For some time, which might have been minutes, might have been hours, the three stayed there in silence.

The artist rose from her seat. “...Angie’s going for a walk.” Neither of the other two reacted as she slipped on her shoes and went out the door. It was just Korekiyo, Rantarou, and that awful ringing silence surrounding them.

“Oh,” they choked out, trembling. “Okay.”

They were being softly eased back into their seat. “Uh, Korekiyo-kun... Are you going to be alright?”

There wasn’t any point in an answer.

“Hey, come on. I know that was a dumb question.” The boy’s hand was on their head. “You don’t have to talk or anything, but...could you...” He sighed and pulled Angie’s chair over, settling in it himself. “No, first, you need to breathe. And then, if you want, we can talk.”

“I’m trash.”

Succinct and true. There wasn’t anything else to it.

“What? Now I know that’s not true.”

“It is.” The view of the floor blurred. “I-I’m supposed to study humans. I’m supposed to stay away from everyone. And look...look what happened, ahahaha...”

“Now that,” Rantarou said, putting an arm around Korekiyo’s shoulders, “could’ve happened to anyone. You are _not_ trash.”

“...Save it for Y-Yonaga-san. She needs-”

“You both need it, and I’ve got enough to go around.” He turned in his seat and hugged the folklorist. “We’re all at fault, and I’m really sorry. I should’ve said something before it all escalated, but...uh, I thought it’d resolve itself somehow.” He laughed weakly. “Geez, that was pretty dumb of me!”

He rambled on and on like that, but it was indistinct, fuzzy. Their eyes hurt. Couldn’t speak, with the lump in their throat. Nothing to do but listen to the muffled voice and settle into the warmth. And think...

 

The lobby was abandoned at this hour. Anyone with sense had retreated into the comfort of sleep, and all others certainly weren’t going to spend time in a hotel lobby for fun.

And then, an outlier by nature, was Angie. Sitting at a breakfast table, having emptied the napkin dispenser and was either folding them into nonsensical shapes or drawing on them with her trusted marker. Korekiyo, at a loss for how to approach her, settled for sitting across from her and watching. Observing.

“They look nice,” they whispered.

Angie nodded. “Even without Kami-sama, I can do this.”

“Does he not approve of napkin art?”

“Haah... It’s not His favourite. But He doesn’t think it’s bad.”

“I see.”

Korekiyo wondered if the silence was uncomfortable for her too.

Angie pushed the napkin pile to their side of the table, and dropped a pen on top. “You should make some art too.”

“Ah, that isn’t really-”

“Angie knows you draw stuff sometimes. You do it a lot in your notebooks, right?”

She’d seen the contents once or twice, so there wasn’t much point in denying it. They took a napkin and the pen, deciding that Nee-san would be a good subject for their...”art”. Who else could it be?

“Whatcha doin’ here, anyway?” Her tone was chipper now, which eased Korekiyo’s nerves just a bit. “Our plan kinda...didn’t work out so well.”

Korekiyo sighed, “No, it really didn’t. I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“What haven’t I done wrong today,” they answered flatly. “I promised you that we would air out our problems together. And I...” Another napkin. Nee-san was easy for them to draw. “I didn’t. And I got angry at you.”

Angie started sketching a dragon on her left arm. “Yep, you did. But I know I went too far. Saying stuff before you got to and not listening. We said we’d listen and Angie totally failed at that. So we both broke the promise!”

The patience of a saint. Maybe she really had been chosen by the gods. There was no other reason why she’d tolerate their outburst so easily. Angie was someone loved by Heaven and that’s all there was to it.

“You really did scare Angie. I knew when I said, um, that stuff that you’d get mad, but wow! You sure can yell.”

“I...” Korekiyo’s breath hitched. “That...was really... I don’t know what came over me.” They didn’t know who they were drawing at that point, either. “I don’t think I’ve ever, _ever_ reacted like that, and it was irrational, completely stupid of me. I understand that you might not want to be-”

“No, that’s dumb,” said Angie, and her confidence was baffling and admirable. “Of course Angie still wants to be friends! Lots of people think we’re too weird, so we gotta stick together, right? And it’s not like that’s a normal thing for you. So there’s no problem.”

At the lack of an answer, she continued. “Angie’s a lot like you. You remember when I talked to you the first time?”

“Of course. I made special note of that day. But even then, I wouldn’t forget being...asked to model for a painting, of all things.”

“Mmm, welllll, it’s true that Kami-sama wanted to paint you. And that worked really well! But also,” she spoke quieter now, “you looked really lonely.”

No, that, that was not true. “D-did I? But I simply... I observe for a living.”

“But you look lots better now. And Angie isn’t lonely now too. So let’s keep being friends and put this behind us!” She extended a hand. “Nyaha~ Korekiyo would get a hug if this big table weren’t in the way.”

They took her hand and shook it, though she didn’t let go and instead kept holding on, fingers interlinked with theirs. But that was alright too, they thought.

“The dragon you’ve drawn is quite remarkable. Have you considered designing tattoos?”

“Aww, thanks! It looks like you drew a whole lot. There’s you...wait, that’s your sister? Sorry! And there’s Angie! I look cute! And wow, lots of Rantarou. What if he saw all of this, Angie wonders...”

“I’d rather he...w-wait, get back here!”


End file.
